


The Lady of Winterfell and Her Knight

by cyberpunk2183



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Healing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Slow Burn, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-12-18 16:45:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18253859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberpunk2183/pseuds/cyberpunk2183
Summary: When Brienne finally rescues Sansa from the clutches of winter and the pursuit of Ramsay Bolton, her charge becomes her obsession. She would do anything for those she serves, but what will Sansa ask of her? A woman who has been so thoroughly abused and hardened.Will kindness be enough to soften the heart of the Ice Queen of the North?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I watched Game of Thrones, but I do love the characters. I'm not sure how canon all of this is, but I've been referencing on Wiki to make sure the events surrounding the scenes line up. Just having fun exploring the characters and seeing where their little romance will go. Enjoy!

Sansa is worn and thin, harried by the life that has so overwhelmed her these last years. She is not a little girl, but something hard and shattered, slowly mending itself back together in a steely dagger of a woman. The fire red hair dirty, her cloak thin and covered in ice crystals.

I have sworn my life to this little broken winged bird and I would do it again and again for the mother that so valiantly flies in my heart. We are leaving the danger that hounds her. I don’t think the look of being hunted will ever leave her eyes and that is what I long to see. Those blue eyes fearful turned to peace.

I will do everything in my power to make her feel safe again. 

At the fire, I check her gloves as she takes them off. Looking for holes and dampness.

“Brienne, I’m fine really,” she tries to assure me. I look up at her, a slight smile tugging at my lips.

“We rode hard today. It’s important you stay warm. Boots?” I ask, careful to kick a warm stone close so she doesn’t get her socks wet with snow. I bend down and check.

“I’ve got it,” she says and undoes the lacing before trying to pull one off. Her fingers are so boney, grey and ashy from lack of nutrients. They tremble. She let’s out a rushing sigh. “Maybe I don’t…you may.” I won’t move until she gives me permission and I’m very careful not to touch her skin.

I don’t know what that Ramsey monster has done to her, but I will kill him. Her boots slide off one at a time and I check them carefully. Her socks are threadbare and hopeless, a toe escaping from a broken seam. She does not look like a lady.

“Brienne, are my boots okay? I didn’t feel any moisture, but my feet are pretty numb from the cold.” I look up distracted. 

“I could help with that, but I would have to touch you,” I say carefully. I see the shiver take her.

“You may…I’ve grown to trust you this last few weeks,” she says. “You’ve always been patient with me.” I frown at her and she has a ghost of smile on her face, the closest I’ve seen yet. My heart warms at that.

“I’ll always be patient with you, Lady Stark,” I assure her and move my hands over her foot, but look to her again. She nods and I slowly touch her. At first doing nothing, waiting to see how she reacts. When she relaxes, I begin to work.

When I look up at her, her eyes are closed and I see the lines of stress have just started to fade and there is a hint of contentment around her brow where there had been the deepest groove.

“Dear sweet woman,” I say under my breath. “I’d give you the world if I could.” I work and work, trying to be as gentle as I can, knowing my man fingers use to hard work must be rough and too hard for her soft skin.

I switch to the other foot when I feel there is sufficient warmth and relaxation in the first.

“That feels wonderful, Brienne, thank you,” she whispers. Her voice a little lower than it had been.

“Anything for you, my lady,” I reply, because it is my duty and I serve wholeheartedly those I love. She bends forward and places her forehead against the shoulder of my armor. I can tell she is exhausted. “Will you eat tonight, my lady? Pod is making a stew to entice your appetite.”

“With the rabbit you caught?” She asks sleepily. “Perhaps…I’m so tired, Brienne.”

“It would please me if you tried,” I say gently. She’s quiet for a moment. Her messy red hair dropping over her young face and those ancient eyes that have seen too much.

“Okay,” she whispers and shuts her eyes again. “For you, I will try.” 

“I thank you, my lady,” I say as I work. I work a little longer than necessary because she seems comfortable, though how resting against the metal of my armor is comfortable I’ll never know. “My lady,” I say gently. She nods and pulls away. Her shoulders are slumped and she trembles despite the warm of the fire. “Let me see your cloak. I’ll dry it and you can use mine.”

I rise and remove it from the saddle bag. I remove the hideous grey cloak and swear to myself that perhaps I will just burn it instead. She wraps herself in my own furred cloak, heavy and thick and finally looks warm.

“Thanks…”

“No need,” I say. I place the cloak across the dried wood already waiting. “Pod, how is the food coming?”

“Along, Lady Brienne,” he replies, looking quite happy with himself as he adds the carrots from his pack. He may not know how to fight, but the boy knows how to camp cook and knit.

“The Lady’s socks are in poor repair, perhaps afterwards?” He nods.

“Absolutely, I’ve been working on a fresh pair actually, but I’ll darn the holes,” he replies with a smile. I give him a wry look.

“Do you see everything?” I ask him.

“More than,” he replies quietly and ducks his head, shoulders rising with his innate shyness. He is a good lad. I move away to check on Reek. He is near the horses, away from the fire, looking terrible and wretched, and cold.

“Theon, come to the fire,” I say and he shakes his head. “Please…you are frozen.”

“I am fine with the animals, miss,” he stutters, not making eye contact. He has remained with them the entirety of the trip, refusing to even see himself as a human I fear. That Bastard of a man will die.

“You are always welcome. I’ll bring food soon, bundle up with your blanket at least. You look terribly cold.” He bobs his head.

“Thank you,” he whispers when my back is turned and I am walking away. This is a terrible thing and my heart breaks at my charges. My heart swelling with hatred as I wish I could tear through every evil being between here and Castle Black.

I settle by the fire again.

“Will you not remove you armor, Lady Brienne? You look uncomfortable,” Lady Stark says in the silence. I look up at her, thoughts far away.

“No, not while there is even a chance you may be in danger yet,” I say. “I will not drop my guard.” Her lips purse together and she nods and a easy quiet falls on the camp again.

I set up the tents while Pod works. There are two. One for me and Lady Stark and one for Pod. We were supposed to be sharing, but I spend most of the time on watch or by the fire, resting. I had not been able to sleep much knowing how paramount it is to protect her life.

Surprised when a bowl of stew touches my fingers, I look up at Pod.

“My lady was far away again,” he teases gently. “Eat. You need your strength.”

“Thank you, Pod,” I say, feeling Lady Stark move, her thigh pressing against my armor. When did she move closer? I look and her feet are tucked underneath her, now without socks and she is picking at the stew.

With my eyes on her, she takes a larger bite to please me.

“Will you sleep tonight, Brienne?” She asks me. “You will need your strength as Pod says.”

“I will try,” I say. She nods as if this will satisfy her. We eat in silence again and when I take her bowl I see she has barely eaten and return it to the soup pot that Pod will store. She is too thin, too weak. I am losing her.

“Come along,” I say to her. “Time for bed.”

“Are you first or second watch?” She asks.

“Second. Pod made dinner,” I say and she nods. I’ve cleared a path for her bare feet to reach the tent safely. She ducks in.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Brienne.” Her hand graces my armor and she vanishes behind the flap.

Pod stays up with me for a while working on her socks. When he is finished, I tuck them into her boots and put them inside the tent.

Then, he goes to bed and I am alone with Reek and the animals watching the fire and wondering about the world and its cruelty.

When Pod touches my shoulder and drops next to me as the ice haloed moon hangs heavy in the sky I don’t move quickly.

“You always love so fiercely those you serve?” He asks.

“Yes. I have loved all my masters,” I say to him tersely.

“You have a big heart, my lady,” he says. “Much bigger than mine.” He gives me a goofy grin and I hit his shoulder. His smile dampens.

“You’re heart is big enough for all of us, squire,” I assure him. “Did Reek eat plenty?”

“All of his soup. I gave him a second helping.”

“Good. He is much too thin too. I wish, Lady Stark would eat more. She is so weak.”

“She is. I will make something good for breakfast, you’ll see. I’ll find something,” he promises. “You should rest. I’ll call if I hear so much as a snap of a twig. We’re so far off the path, I doubt anyone could find us and the fire is smokeless and already burned down.”

I nod. It’s safe enough and I am tired, exhausted. I stand up with a groan and remove my sword for the first time in a week. I lean it against the tent.

“Goodnight, Pod,” I say. I bend down awkwardly into the tent. Sleeping in my armor is not ideal, but I don’t want to remove it. I am working. My bedroll is on the right and so when I try to ease myself in it favors my stronger side so I can hopefully be quiet. 

Lady Stark is still wearing my cloak even in her bedroll. She must be cold. Her eyes flutter open and her body stiffens at the shadow of me.

“It’s me, Brienne,” I say, expecting her fear. Shadows frighten her. Presence scares her and I know in the dark, I must look like a man.

She instantly relaxes and that pleases me.

“I am sorry, I woke you.”

“I am glad you are going to try to sleep,” she says and flings out her hand from her bedroll. I don’t know what she wants, so I hesitantly take it and she squeezes it, before returning her hand to her bedroll and my cloak, tucked so tightly around her.

I lean down, feeling the burn of my fingers where she touched them. It has been such a long time since I’ve felt that I think curiously, even for one I have served. I rub my fingers against the coolness of my armor.

“Will you not at least remove your chest plate?” She asks. “You look so uncomfortable.” I let out a slow sigh.

“I must protect you,” I say.

“You can protect me without your cuirass,” she says and sits. “Come.” I groan and she helps me sit up.

I can feel her fingers working on the buckles closest to her and I work on those farthest. Then, we manage to slide it off. I am sure my tunic is a terrible mess after being buried for so long, but none of us are at our best. I slide my chest plate to the side. It feels like I have removed a hundred pounds from my body. 

“You look so small without it,” she says.

“You’re just used to seeing me in it,” I say and rub my shoulders, trying to loosen them up. I move my neck and ease myself back toward the bedroll. “Thank you, it is much better. My back and shoulders feel so light from the constant weight.”

“I would offer you a back rub, but you look so tired.”

“Another time, perhaps,” I say flippantly because I am so tired.

“It is a deal,” she murmurs. I smile gently and feel sleep pull me into it’s loving embrace.


	2. Cuddles a Coming

When we finally arrive to Castle Rock, it is so good to see Jon Snow embrace his sister. To see her finally find family and love even so far on the outskirts of the world. I remain near her, but keep my distance now, but am surprised when her eyes seek me reflexively.

We’ve only been together for a few hard weeks of travel. But perhaps helping her so close after whatever terrible thing happened with Bolton had forged a strange sort of bond. She eats that night alone with Jon, but I am surprised when she comes to my room.

I have finally had a bath, my hair dripping wet still, and in loose pants and a long white shirt. Her cheeks flush.

“I’m sorry, Brienne, I know you must be tired of me, but…is it possible if I could sleep in your room? I don’t wish to be alone,” she says in a slow hesitant voice. I nod and see her bag near her feet. I sigh.

“Of course,” I say and step aside, so she can enter. I’d offer her rooms, but I’m sure they are all the same here at Castle Rock. “Take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No,” she starts, but I give her a look.

“I’ll be by the fire,” I assure her. 

“You’ve done so much for me,” she whispers.

“I have done nothing, but my duty.”

“Brienne, you don’t have to lie to me,” she says. “You are too kind after what has happened to me.”

“Nothing could be too kind for you, my lady. Please get ready for bed. Did you eat enough? I could get something for you to eat.”

“I am still a little hungry,” she admits.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, so she will be able to dress.

When I return, she’s changed into something her brother has given her. I don’t know where men had a sleep gown, but it is much too big on her and I can see how boney she has become. I ease myself on the bed, but don’t touch her and offer a plate of plain dried meats and cheese.

“Hey,” I say. She smiles, knees to her chest and she looks so small and frail.

“Thanks,” she murmurs and takes a tiny bite of the meat. She makes a face and continues to eat under my vigilance. “What was it like growing up on Tarth?”

“Not like here,” I say amused. “Do you know it’s also known as the Saphire Isle?”

“No, why?” She asks, eyes big.

“The seas are so blue around it that you can see all the way down to the reefs. They are like undersea flowers, purple, red, blues…and the fish…” I smile. “They are just as colorful, not grey like here. The island itself is mountainous with deep vales and waterfalls. Oh, the waterfalls are so large and so many.”

“No wonder you were so active. It sounds beautiful. Why did you leave?” She asks. 

“My father had a treaty with King Baratheon and since he did not have son to send, he sent his warrior daughter to fulfill the duty.”

“So you’ve been away from your home for a long time.”

“While not pleasant it is pleasant to the alternative. Home was not always easy for me, because of my life choices. I never married which has never pleased my father. It is a constant battle between us.”

“Why did you?” She pauses as if hesitant and I nod. “Why not?”

“It was not the life I chose for myself. I never fit into my role as a woman easily. I loved the wilderness too much. It was born into me.” She smiles at that.

“You sound like my sister Arya,” she says.

“Arya was a bit like me when I was small. I would have ran from me too,” I say with a faint smile. 

“Were you ever small?” Lady Stark asks. Her smile twisting into an almost smile.

“No, I don’t ever feel like I was ever small,” I admit with a sad smile. “I’ve always been a bit of an ogre. They would tease me terribly about it. I was the biggest girl on the island.” She reaches out and touches my arm. It tightens around the swell of my bicep, pulling my sleeve tight. She stares at it.

“That was unkind of them. I am so thankful for your kindness and your strength. You’re a beautiful woman, Lady Brienne of Tarth. Whoever said otherwise is a liar and never truly knew you.” My cheeks flush red.

“Oh, Lady Stark,” I say and pull away from her grip. “I know I have done kind things, but you don’t have to…to say those things.” They aren’t true. No one was ever called me beautiful. Manly, ungainly, ogreish, and worse, but never, never beautiful. “My mother was beautiful.” I say staring into the fire and easing myself in the chair. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” she says. “But it is true what I said.” I shake my head. 

“Don’t, please,” I say and raise my hand. I can see the hurt in her eyes. What is she trying to do?

“Okay,” she says and her lips purse. She sets the food aside and she has barely eaten anything again. I sigh and look at her.

“Please, try to eat more, Lady Stark,” I say. “You’re so thin.”

“I know, but I’m not hungry. It sends my stomach sour,” she says. “I don’t like making people upset anymore.” 

“I’d never hurt you.”

“I know,” she replies. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Oh, I can handle you, I promise. You haven’t hurt me,” I say and I feel like it is true. How could such a small, gentle woman hurt me? Yet, my heart aches as if she has thrust a dagger there. Just for calling me beautiful. 

Ogre.

I shake my head. Her lips purse again and I have a feeling she doesn’t believe me.

“If you won’t eat, you should rest,” I say. “We’ve travelled hard and you were already weak when I found you. Sleep in tomorrow. I will keep the fire up.”

She pulls herself deeper into the bed. I rise to blow out the candle on the nightstand. She reaches out and by now, I know what she is doing. I take her hand and squeeze it.

“Thank you,” she says.

“I am always at your service, my lady,” I say. I release her hand feeling the burn on my fingertips and go to set about my sleep roll on the frayed and ancient rug. I feel every single stone under may back against the frozen floor, but I don’t say anything.

Knowing that Lady Stark is safe in my room is better than knowing she is in her own room where I cannot reach her quickly. Where I will not hear her cry out if she needs me. I will always take the floor by her bedside no matter what the discomfort.

Despite the ill comfort, I do eventually ease off into a fretful sleep. The fire is so warm and my thoughts of Lady Stark are so sweet it isn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

“No! No!” Lady Stark screams. “Stop. Stop, please! You monster!” I jump up and run for her and feel her hands smack against my chest as hard as she can. “Get away! Get away.” I hadn’t even touched her, but being in her vicinity apparently illicits violence. I let her hit me as many times as she wishes.

“I am here, Lady Stark,” I say gently. “It is Lady Brienne of Tarth, your protector. I am and will always be here now.”

The hits become softer, the cries form sobs and she collapses against me. I hold her gently, feeling the knobs of her backbone under my fingers and the bones of every one of her ribs as each sob wracks her tiny, frail body.

“Bolton raped me,” she whispers in a jagged voice. “Over and over and over…he was a cruel creature.” I’ve seen the bruises, seen hints of the scars.

“I will kill him for you, one day,” I say in a terse voice. “He does not deserve to live.”

“No,” she says after a moment. Her no is resolute. She pulls away from me, touches my face and moves a strand of hair from my eyes. “I will kill him myself.” I shutter at words.

“Then, I will give you the opportunity,” I say and she nods. “But you must sleep and you must eat.” She looks at me confused. “Vengeance requires strength, Lady Stark.”

“Call me, Sansa,” she says. “Brienne, you’ve saved my life so many times.”

“I could not,” I say. “I am your protector. I have sworn my my life to you.”

“Please,” she says. “In private at least.”

“In private, I will try,” I say.

“Say it then,” she challenges. “For me, right now. Let me hear you say my name.”

“Sansa,” I breathe. She actually smiles a watery smile.

“I need you,” she says and I look confused.

“You have me.”

“Come lay with me. Hold me and keep me warm. Keep the dreams at bay and protect me,” she whispers.

“What if I wake up your dreams?” I ask.

“You will not. You are no Ramsay Bolton. You have always protected me. Protect me now.”

“Okay,” I whisper. I shift hesitantly, unsure where she would like me. The bed is small. She is small, but I am large and ungainly. She chuckles and sits up. I manage to slide around her, pressing against the wall. “I’m glad you find my ungracefulness amusing, my lady.”

“You are so human,” she says. “So you. It is refreshing. Every day is refreshing with you after all these horrible years.” She leans into me, resting her head on my arm, nestling in tighter against my body and everywhere she touches me seems to burst with heat. My breath hitches. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not used to being touched is all,” I whisper. “You’re fine. I will adjust.”

“Then, you and I are opposites,” she says quietly.

“Perhaps,” I say and find my free hand stroking her hair unconsciously. “I’m sorry.” I stop when I realize what I’m doing. She makes a sound in the back of her throat.

“Don’t stop. It feels nice.” I continue to stroke the fine locks of fire red hair. After their wash, they now glisten in the fire light. She makes a pleasant sound. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my lady,” I reply. “Always…” Her breathing doesn’t change, so I know she is awake. I can see her eyes are opened too as she stares into the fire. “Tell me about your childhood in the House of Stark?”

“It was…always cold outside, but the halls rang with warmth and laughter. My father and mother loved each other desperately. My mother always wanted me to be a good lady. She was from farther south and not used to the rough and tumble life of our household. So she made sure I was trained well. Embroidery, poetry, singing, dancing, literature, etiquette…everything. They always raised to me to be the one to marry Robert Baratheon’s child.” She shutters and I wonder what cruelty she must have experienced at the hand of that fiancé. 

“You did enjoy your childhood.”

“I was soft and spoiled,” she says in a cold voice. “Looking back at my sister’s rebellion I probably would have been wiser going her route.”

“She has had no easy life herself, Lady Stark,” I say gently against her. She let’s out a long slow sigh.

“She has been alone. I fear for her so much. We never got along. We were so different…I regret so much and now I wish every day that I could see my sister again. See what is left of my family.”

“I know,” I whisper gently.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“No, I am the sole heir of Tarth,” I say. She rolls over and looks at me.

“If this is ever over and I am not running or when I kill Ramsey. Will you take me there one day?” She asks. “I want to see the waterfalls.”

“Of course,” I say and tighten my arms around her. “Of course, I will take you to my home.” She signs against me and feel her head sink against my chest in much too intimate of a position. I slide on my back, grimace as a stitch finds it’s way on my side.

“Are you hurting?” She asks.

“Just a cramp,” I whisper. “The pains of being a warrior.” 

“Where?” She whispers. I guide her fingers to the offending cramp and feel her gently start to work her fingers into it. She struggles to press into the tight muscle of me, but slowly it relaxes and I feel the tension ease from my body. She goes limp on top of me and finally I hear her breath even out and lengthen.

Sleep drags me deeper than it has for a many a season in the arms of Lady Stark.


	3. More than Duty

The dark haired man approaches me in his worn black cloak lined in a wolf’s fur. Jon Snow. He has definitely made a name for himself. I don’t know what he wishes to speak with me about.

Lady Stark is eating in the common room, or trying to. I am giving her privacy, standing on the deck outside the door and enjoying the cleaner air out here. The common room smells of sweat and men and salted meat. Much too claustrophobic.

“Well,” he says, leaning against the railing. “Lady Brienne, I am pleased my sister has found such a good protector as you. I just wish…you had found her earlier.”

“So do I,” I say. “Lord Snow.”

“Jon. I am not Lord or commander or anything,” he says frankly.

“That doesn’t sound right. Not with the way they look at you,” I say casually, nodding toward the wildings. He nods.

“What do you want, Jon Snow?” I say to him, looking him over carefully. He shifts awkwardly.

“I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done for Sansa,” he says and looks back toward her through the door. I had chosen this spot specifically so she could still see me, know that I was nearby. She worries. “I have a feeling you are much more than a protector.”

“I am a protector. I swore my life to protect her and I will,” I say, a little too sharply. “That is all.” He nods, smiling. His eyes are remarkably sad and haunted.

“I wasn’t implying anything. I just see that you are working to make sure she eats, she stays in your room, and you truly look out for her. I know my sister went through hell. You don’t have to do what you are doing, but you are and that is…that is everything after all the unkindness she has experienced in this world.”

“She has experienced enough,” I say, fiercely. “Enough, Jon.” He nods and his face becomes strained. 

“Thanks. That’s all,” he says. “Nothing more. Nothing less.” He offers me a hand. I shake my head. I will not do this. I will not debase Sansa as if she is some deal.

“It is my duty,” I say stiffly and return to the common room and sit across from Sansa. She looks at me with a lifted eyebrow.

“What was that?” She asks.

“Nothing. He was thanking me,” I say and made a face. She chuckles.

“Sounds like something a Stark would do,” she says. She is pushing food across her plate, eggs and bread. A few bites, but nothing more. 

“Please, Lady Stark,” I say and she blinks, looking down at her plate. Her fork moves across the wooden plate. She takes another bite, chews as if it is foreign and disgusting, and swallows. It hurts me to watch her. She has been at it for an hour already. She takes another bite, but then she is finished.

She pushes the plate away.

“I tried,” she says and I nod.

“You did,” I say. “Thank you.” Her lips purse together and she rises to her feet. I see her sway and I quickly rise and offer my hand. Her elbow slips into it and we exit to the outdoors. She stands at the balcony where Jon and I were standing before. 

Her other hand slides on top of mine and we remain there until she nods. She returns to our room and sits in front of the fire as I stir again. I remain there and lift my frozen hands to it.

“I’m so tired,” Sansa whispers. “Will it ever get better?”

“Yes, one day,” I reply. “One day, you will walk with me through the paths of your home and you will not be tired or hurt. Ramsey will be dead.” She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “You’ll be safe.” She reaches out and take my hand. She rests it against her thigh just over her knee.

“I want to believe that, but every day has been grey for so many years,” she whispers. “What is safe, but another gilded cage? You are so good. You still believe in people.”

“I don’t believe in people. I believe in ideals.”

“Ideals will get you killed. If a dream can destroy me, an ideal will destroy you,” she says in a dark voice. I blink and nod.

“What was your dream?” I ask her quietly. She peers at me.

“I wanted to marry a prince to be a princess…so childish,” she says with a sneer. Her eyes flash with self-hatred at the child she once was.

“A child’s dream yes, but it wasn’t wrong. My ideals won’t destroy me, but I will die by them one day. I’d rather die on my terms than anyone else’s,” I say to her. She smiles bitterly at me.

“I like that,” she says. “I don’t have ideals anymore. They killed my father, my brother, my mother, and destroyed my family. I was crushed for merely being connected to the ideals of the Starks.”

“What are the ideals of the Stark?” I ask.

“We prepare for the Long Winter. We are always ready,” she says with a frown. “Honor and duty go hand in hand.” She frowns as if she is recalling something from another lifetime. “I fear I do not care for honor and duty anymore if it means Ramsey is dead.”

“There is honor in even killing a monster.”

“I don’t care how it’s done. In fact, the worse the better,” she murmurs, eyes far away. “What if he has made me a monster? Will you still protect me?”

“I will always protect you. I have sworn an oath,” I say and look at her carefully. “But I refuse to believe you have lost what was buried in your mother so deeply. She was good, Sansa.”

“I am not good, nor was I ever,” she says sharply. “My mother was great. I was a spoiled, rotten child and now…” She makes a face, puts her hand over it.

“You are Lady Stark,” I say. “Lady of Winterfell.”

“That’s my mother,” she says and another tear slips down her cheek. It is the first time I have seen her cry. “That isn’t me.”

“It is you,” I whisper. “You will make it whatever you want.”

“You believe in me,” she whispers. “Like your ideals?”

“Of course, I do. I will always believe in you,” I say, gently. “Whatever type of leader you will be, I don’t care. Let me serve you.” I take her other hand and she squeezes me.

“Even if I am a monster?”

“I will not believe you are a monster, but you will get things done. You will kill the monsters and you will protect your people and your family.”

She nods.

“That is not evil,” I say. “That is not a monster.”

“I am not a monster,” she says it as if she doesn’t believe it.

“No,” I say. “No, you’re not a monster.” She crawls against me and hugs me. I sigh, wishing I didn’t have my full armor on, so she could take more strength from me. Instead, I ease my head against hers, stroke her back, and she sighs.

My heart flutters. My fingers grip my cloak, now hers, and I shut my eyes, longing to keep her safe.

“Brienne,” she says. “Thanks for…”

“Shh,” I say. “Enough.”

“Duty?”

“Perhaps,” I say.

“Perhaps?” She teases. 

“Perhaps,” I say. “I fear you inspire more than just loyalty. You have earned my friendship.”

“Friendship?” She whispers, sounding pleased. “I haven’t had a friend in so long. One that I truly trusted.” She leans away and takes my face in her hands. 

“Neither have I,” I say and look away. She moves to sit next to me on the hearth.

“I’ll try not to thank you as much. I know it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Yes,” I say. She smiles and takes my hand. My mouth is suddenly dry. “You should rest some more. I shouldn’t be here to interrupt you. There’s the food from last night too.”

“Okay. I’ll try,” she says. I rise to my feet and she releases my hand. She stretches her legs out and I reach the door. “Brienne.” I turn to look at her in her grey patched dressed, looking more like a corpse than the woman I see her as.

“Yes, my lady,” I say. “Sansa?” Her face is drawn and perplexed.

“Don’t go far. You make me feel so…safe.”

“I’ll be right outside. I’m not good…indoors,” I admit. “Never have been.”

“It’s fine. I am not your keeper.”

“No, you aren’t, but I will not be far,” I assure her. “I will be within hearing distance. I won’t leave you, Sansa. I will keep you safe.”

“Please,” she whispers, hands on the back of her neck.

“Even if you’re scared, I will come,” I say. “Don’t hesitate to call. I’ll be right outside.”

“Okay,” she says. “Yes. I’m fine. Go.” She stands up and crosses to the bed. “Go, Brienne.” She commands. I step out and leave her to her own thoughts and hopefully rest.

***  
Every night, she rests in my arms now. I nurse food in her, bites through the day even though she doesn’t want to eat. I work out with the men in the courtyard while she is in the common room or resting outside. Pod is near her when I’m not. She doesn’t like that as much, but it’s acceptable. She is slowly trusting him.

We don’t stay long enough for her to get better. I wish we would, but this isn’t the place for her to get better. In fact, I’m not even willing to say she has improved. 

We head toward Winterfell. I’m not allowing Sansa to go to battle in her condition of course, so Pod and I break off to a chosen destination and wait.

On the third day, she falls off her horse from exhaustion. From then on, she rides with me and I carry around food to make sure she eats in small bites again and drinks water.

I worry about her. I worry every waking moment that she will not get better. That she will decide that living is too hard and she will leave me here without duty and without honor. Alone.


	4. Winterfell

After she bathes and dresses, she exists into the main room. We are in her old room at Winterfell, even though she is the Lady of the House of Stark now. Her hair is damp and she looks, startling. She is wearing her own cloak now and in a fine dress that’s amazing, dark and midnight blue with a golden wolf across her chest.

“Brienne, you’re staring,” she challenges me.

“You look different.”

“Because I’m not in rags,” she says with a chuckle and moves passed me. The fur of her cloak grazes my black leather tunic. Her eyes watch me as she passes and takes a look at me. I stand a little straighter, so my lady can do her own inspection. “You look good as well.”

“When will you move to your room?” I ask.

“These are my rooms…oh my mother’s rooms. Only if you come with me,” she says, shyly. “Have them change the blankets and light my candles and open the windows. Make sure there is nothing in there that will remind me of them.”

“I will do as you say, my lady,” I assure, bowing slightly and then she catches my arm.

“Don’t go formal on me, Brienne. Say my name.”

“Sansa,” I reply and soften. She gives a tiny smile and I go to do her bidding. I hope here she will be able to get better. I talk to her maid outside the door. The woman she has refused in while she was bathing and dressing, who looks peeved that she wasn’t invited.

I pass along the news and she leaves me. It isn’t long before we are led into new rooms, bigger. They are stone with a massive fireplace, a bigger bed, and rooms for eating and receiving.

“Lady of Winterfell,” I say formally. She peeks at me, looking more confident. I’m glad to see that. Being here is good. There is food on the table. She sits down and looks at me.

“Join me,” she says. “You’re hungry.”

“I shouldn’t eat with you, Sansa,” I say. “You’re the Lady of Winterfell now.”

“You’re the Lady of Tarth,” she says. “When your father dies, we will be equals again.” I laugh.

“Winterfell and Tarth are not comparable, Sansa,” I say, but I sit down, because she is right. I am a noble and she is a noble. Even if I am a knight, it doesn’t change the fact that we can sit together and eat, that we can be friends, and perhaps a little more than—whatever that looks like. She needs me.

She seems to eat better here. The food more familiar.

“Do you like this?” I ask her gently. It’s a Sheperd’s pie. Hearty and filling and good for her.

“This was my favorite,” she says.

“Was?” I ask her gently. She smiles as she takes a bigger bite. The biggest bite I’ve yet to see her eat since she’s come into my care.

“It is my favorite, Brienne. I have a favorite food,” she marvels and finally laughs. I shut my eyes and smile at the sound of it. It fills me with joy that bubbles up in my chest and threatens to burst. “Oh Brienne. I love when you smile. When you get so happy about the small things. I love when you are pleased with me.”

I open my eyes and she is beautiful. It takes my breath away, the serious expression and the eyes that dance with just as much joy as there is in my chest.

“Keep eating, please, don’t stop,” I beg her. She nods and continues to eat as if she hasn’t eaten in months. She hasn’t. I sit my hands on my chin and watch the joy of her eating.

“Try it,” she says. “It’s good. It’s great.” I smile again and begin to eat myself. It is good. It’s the best food I’ve had on the mainland. Perhaps, because it has made my lady so happy and now we finally have this joyful memory between us. Her home and eating her favorite food.

I will take it and every day after that. 

“Are you ever scared, Brienne?” She asks me. “Do you ever get scared someone will hurt you?”

“Everyone gets scared,” I reply. 

“You never seem scared.”

“I am. Every day, I’m scared I will lose you,” I say. “You’ve given my life a meaning I’d never expected.”

“I’m glad I’m helping you. You’ve helped me so much,” she says and touches the scarred heavy table. The planks are heavy and probably centuries old. My finger trails over the scars. 

“You have. I cannot bear a life without purpose,” I speak. 

“And I provide you purpose?” She wonders. “What purpose could I possibly offer you?”

“To protect and serve,” I say. She knows this. What is she seeking, I wonder. Another smile tugs at her lips. 

“I love when you talk of your duty. It makes you happy,” she says. “I am glad I can bring you happiness.” I chuckle.

“You’re happy that you bring my happiness?” I ask her and she nods, shyly. Her cheeks are a little flush. “Silly girl. Eat your dinner.” She smiles a little smile and begins to eat again. She eats half of her meal and that is half more than I have ever seen her eat. 

I finish my pie and rise to serve her more of the cider, before stirring the fire. It is a pleasant feeling in the room. I move to close the window.

“Leave it open. It gets stuffy in the rooms.”

“It’s cold,” I say.

“We have cloaks and you like being outdoors,” she says with a shrug. “Can’t you handle the cold, Lady Brienne?” 

“Of course, I can,” I say from the safety of the fire. “I’m concerned for your health is all.”

“My health? Believe me, Brienne, I can handle the chill,” she says with the frowning smile she has adopted. 

“Very well,” I say. “The window will remain open. “Now that Ramsey is dead. What do you fear?”

“That I will not be strong enough for whatever comes next,” she says. “Protecting Winterfell against the South and the winter that comes.”

“You will be. You are the strongest person I know,” I tell her and it’s the truth. She has survived more than I ever could. 

“I don’t believe anyone has ever cared for me as you have, Brienne,” she says quietly. She is playing with her dessert now. She doesn’t eat sweets. I have yet to see her eat anything like that. I stand up and cross back to her, sitting at the table and move the slice of pie between us. There is a fork on either side.

“Together,” I say. “Just one bite. It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

“It was,” she says quietly. “I’m not hungry.”

“Dessert is not about being hungry.” I take the fork with a little sliver on it and offer it to her lips. She opens them, looking tired and both young and old. She shuts her eyes and the pie is in her mouth. 

She closes her lips and that’s when I see her face relax. It softens and a single tear drips down. She swallows. 

“More?” I ask and she shakes her head. She bends forward.

“Hold me?” She asks. I slide closer and put my arm around her.

“What are you feeling?” I ask her.

“Scared, good, but scared,” she says. “How can pie make me so scared?” 

“I wish, I could make it better,” I whisper. 

“You do,” she whispers. “This is the most cared for I have felt in years. You take care of me in ways no one ever has since I left Winterfell and then some.” 

“I’ll always be here, Sansa,” I say gently. Her eyes dart to mine, her fingers move to my shoulder and plays with the tooling of my sleeve. I feel better that she’s in my arms. When she feels bad I want her here.

I sigh and set my head against her, feel my cheek pressed against the wet strands of her hair. Breathing in the scents that are for once truly hers instead of the sweat and fear that drove her before.

“Hey,” I say. She looks up at me. She reaches up and strokes my face. 

“Hey,” she says. “It’s early still. I’d like to go the tree in the morning.”

“I’ll go with you if you wish,” I say. She nods against my shoulder.

“Yes, please,” she says and there is an easy comfort between us. Born of days and nights spent connected. Being this close. Feeling her warmth against me. “Let’s move to the fire, you’re cold.”

“I’m not—

“You can’t lie to me,” she says to me. “I know you too well now.” I snort and she drags me up of my chair or tries too. I grab our ciders and we walk together to the couch before the fire and we sit, feet propped up, cuddled together watching it.

Her feet are bare, long, scarred from whatever torture that he did to her. I remember from the massages of her feet feeling the tiny red welts, raised and tender under her thin socks.

She moves to tuck them under herself.

“It’s okay,” I say into her hair.

“I don’t want you to think of him,” she says and nestles deeper into me. “Think of me and the fire. Think of this moment and Sheperd’s pie and dessert and cider.”

“You’re so strong,” I murmur, feeling the first inklings of exhaustion hit me hard in the gut. Safe. We’re finally safe.

“Brienne?” She asks me. 

“Mmm, baby girl,” I murmur. Fingers clinch under her cloak around her waist and I pull her closer. My head is nestled into her shoulder and neck. I smell the flowers, the scent of her under that. There’s a hint of raised skinned underneath her tall collar. I feel her hand on my face and she pushes me away hard.

I blink uncomfortable. She’s smiling at me. 

“Don’t,” she says. “Not yet.”

“Don’t do what?” I ask confused. “What am I doing?” She strokes my hair. 

“Come on, put your head in my lap,” she says. 

“What?” I ask confused.

“Let me help you, Brienne,” she says.

“Help me with what?” I wonder aloud. I’m too tired to think straight. She seems to know it as she guides me down. I lay flat, one leg thrown over the arm, and the other stretched out. 

Her thigh is warm and soft. Her hands small as she strokes through my hair gently. My hair is dry. It’s so short and it dries quickly. I look up at her.

“I can’t believe I’m so tired.”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” she says. “Too busy watching me, worrying about me. You need to rest. now. We’re safe. I’m safe.” She bends down and kisses the top of my head. “Rest.”


	5. The Weirwood

Later, she helps me get up. I’m still tired. She pulls off my tunic and pulls me into the large bed. It’s so warm and nice. I feel her wrap herself around me, tucking my arms around her. 

I feel her move my face again when it reaches her throat. She nestles it against her chest and I sigh against her. I feel safe there in her arms. I feel like I can stop running finally. 

The morning finds me alone in the bed. This time I have slept in. The light streams in as I struggle to sit up. I look for Sansa and she is there at the table, reading scrolls, letters from the ravens.

I pull my tunic on and she looks up.

“Eat,” she says. “We have to go to the tree.”

I sit down enjoying the command in her voice and the confidence. She looks up at me, reaches up and straightens my hair without a word, before returning to the reading.

I take a few bites and look at her plate. She must have seen me look, because her hand snakes out for a half eaten piece of sausage and she takes a bite daintily. 

“Using your hands, Lady Stark?” I ask amused. She looks up, eyebrow raised.

“It’s tradition to eat sausages with your fingers at Winterfell. We are considered heathens after all,” she says casually and finishes the sausage. 

“I didn’t bother you last night, did I?” I ask. She shakes her head.

“You were tired,” she says. “I’ll speak or move you if you make me uncomfortable. I expect the same from you.”

“Is this becoming something else?” I ask confused.

“We’re friends,” she says with a shrug. “But you also care about me when no else does. You know I can’t be a lot right now, but you’re here and that means everything.” I nod, feeling more confused.

“I’ll be here then,” I say. 

“Yes,” she says and smiles. She touches my face. “Don’t think about it. I don’t know what you’ve experienced in the past. If it was only ignorance and cruelty of people unwilling to see you for what you are, but I see you. I see how you don’t look at anyone, but those you serve. I’m here for what it’s worth. I’m not whole, but I’m here.”

“You’re everything,” I say to her and she does that smiling frown that’s she adapted so well.

“Than we’ll be everything together. Now finish your breakfast.”

I finish eating and stand up. She hasn’t eat as much as yesterday, but she has eaten and that is good enough for me. I take a napkin and fill it with easy things to carry to give to her later and slip it in the pouch on my hip. Then, I offer Lady Stark my hand and she let’s me help her up.

She is already dressed and ready, so I let her lead. She weaves her way through the maze that is Winterfell, a series of stone corridors and ancient pavilions. Men and women serving as they have always done.

No one looks at me following Lady Stark, they only look at her. She is beautiful. Her red hair cascades down her black cloak. Her skin pale as the moon.

The tree has ghostly white bark and red pink leaves with a white unbelly that droop around us. It’s ancient. There is a power here that reminds me of the waterfalls on Tarth. There are waterfalls that carry the rush of power that is deeper than anything you can imagine. She is rooted like the tree. 

There are few natural ways that can kill a tree like this. It can survive the rain, the wind, and more.

She has survived so much. Bending down, she kneels before the tree’s roots, places a hand on the trunk near the face. Eventually, she gains a more comfortable seat and I know we are staying for awhile, so I walk around the smaller trees, following old crooked paths. It’s much too cold to grow things here, except the hardiest plants. 

I wonder who she will become here. Who she wants to be and what she meant this morning. We talked of more than a friendship, but both her and I aren’t, we’re intimate, but I’m not sure we can be anything. I’m not sure she can, but looking at the tree and her. 

I find myself drawn to the tree and touch it, pressing my hand against it and feel the jolt of something ancient and deep. I know the old gods aren’t mine, but I do know that there is power in nature.

It’s here. She’s here on the other side. We’re safe for now. I don’t know if I can keep her safe forever.

I’m scared of one thing, and that is losing her. I press my head against the bark of the tree. I don’t know how long I’m there when her hand trails my side and wakes me up.

“I have one more thing to do before I start today,” she says quietly. Her voice quiet and sad. I tilt my head as she takes my hand and we go below ground until we reach the statue of her mother. She reaches out and touches the face of her mother.

“Mother, I wish you were here. You always knew what to say and do, but what would you expect of me?” She asks. “You always expected much more than I could give.”

I wonder if I should leave and start to inch away, but she senses it and reaches out.

“Brienne, my mother Catelynn Stark, former Lady of Winterfell,” she says, taking my hand tightly. I look at the Stark woman, firm, glaring, and protective of her family, of her daughter. She had taken my servitude. I had successfully brought one home.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring Arya home,” I say to the woman. I drop my eyes. 

“She did find and rescue me, mother,” she says. “Thank you for sending her to me. I love you.” She leans forward and kisses the stone cheek, not releasing me.

She turns to me, steps to me and hugs herself to me, pressing her head against my chest. I stroke her back, but she isn’t crying. I don’t know what this moment is to her, but we’re here together as it should be.

“I’m here,” I say, because that is the only right thing to say and she sighs against me. She remains for a moment, before pulling away.

“We have a lot to do,” she says all business. “I won’t be able to talk much, but I will ask your advice when it is appropriate. I trust you, your perspective. I’m not sure about myself.”

“Trust yourself,” I say. “You have the wisdom of the tree out there and Lady Catelynn. You are a powerhouse of wisdom, strength, and fortitude.” I stroke her hair. “Believe.” She nods, straightens and truly separates herself from me.

“That tree is a weirwood,” she says with a her upside down smile. “Come along, Brienne. There is much to do.”

She is right, but before we leave the tombs I make sure she eats a little more and take a drink from my canteen as we crest the steep stairs. She seems appreciative and then we are off to a long day of meetings in the main hall.

She is the Lady of Winterfell now after all and they have needed her for ages.

I make sure they stop at lunch. We take a long lunch in her room. Where she eats soup and takes a short nap by the fire. Afterwards, she takes a walk in the practice courts while I practice with Pod.

I thought she would stay in her rooms, but she still seems intent on keeping me within eyesight.

“The Lady seems insistent on watching you,” he says casually. “Even if she is trying not to.” I shake my head.

“Pay attention, Pod,” I admonish. “She feels safe around me. I can’t fault her that after everything she has been through. Can you?”

“I can think of no one more qualified in that job,” he says. “In keeping her safe and being kind to her.” 

I strike him down easily.

“Footwork, Pod. Less flapping your jaws and more—” I smack his thigh with the flat of blade and the men around us chuckle.

“He gossips like an old hen.”

“Say that again and come fight me,” I snarl at the man. “He is my squire, you will do well to remember that.”

“Yes, my lady,” says the man sheepishly. “I meant no offense. Just a gabby boy.”

I storm over to him and he cringes as if expecting a strike.

“One more time,” I say. “Say one more thing about my squire and I will put you on your ass, sir.”

“Yes, ma’am. Mums the word,” he whimpers. I stare at him for good measure before returning to Pod, whose cheeks have flushed so red that he looks like the tomato soup we had for lunch.

“Again,” I command and he nods quickly.

***

“Pod has finished your second socks,” I say that evening and hand them to her. She looks down at them. These have the dire wolf on them and are just as cozy as the last.

“He is always so worried about my feet,” she says with a sigh shaking her head. “You are always so kind with the lad.”

“He is my squire,” I say with a sigh. “Is that so unusual?”

“Yes, Podrik is Podrik and you are you, Brienne.” I look at her stunned and her cheeks turn slightly pink. “The man should not have said what he said, but you shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I must defend his honor, because his honor is our honor, my lady,” I say. “I am teaching Pod a lesson and the man and every man who has ears to hear from the men in the courtyard. No one threatens even a hair on the head of my squire, let alone my lady.”

“I see have more to learn from you than I thought,” Lady Stark says, pleased. “Brilliant.” 

She is leafing through more paperwork, dressed for bed and in a thick robe. Now, she casually slips the heavy socks on her feet and wiggles her toes.

“These are amazing. His last pair are nearly worn down again. I’ll have to send them to him for darning I wore them so much. He’s so good at it…I could do it myself, but I think he enjoys it and I couldn’t do it half as well as he.”

“That he does. I will take them to him,” I say.

“No, let me. I must thank him personally.” I smile at her.

“Are you getting ready for bed?”

“Um, yes. Where shall I change?” I ask her. “Would you like me to go to the main room?”

“I changed here. You can change here too.”

My cheeks flush.

“Are you afraid I will look?” She asks curious. “I didn’t think you would be shy, not with me of all people.”

“I am with anyone…Sansa,” I whisper. “But perhaps, especially you. I am not…I am not a pretty woman.”

“No, you are quite a beautiful woman, both inside and out, my dear,” she says as if she’s stated the most obvious of truths. I nearly choke as my cheeks flush even hotter. My hands clinch and unclinch, and I feel my belly is so tight I can barely breathe.

Her hand touches my shoulder. 

“Brienne, you can change where you like, but I will never be offended by your body,” she whispers. “I know you don’t believe me, but I do like it. It makes me feel so safe, so loved.” Her eyes look at me in my entirety and I feel like she is the first person to ever have seen me.

She takes my chin and makes me look at her. My eyes, there is something in my eyes.

“Brienne! Are you crying?” She asks completely stunned.

“What? No, of course not. Something must be in my eyes,” I say and quickly rub my palms against them. She actually laughs and I feel anger stir within me.

“Oh, you are making it worse,” she says and pulls me against her. I start to struggle, but she doesn’t release me, instead she holds my neck as tightly as she can. I am afraid if I fight too hard I will hurt her despite my frustration so I must relax my head against her bosom and that feels good.

“Must you laugh in the face of my weakness, my lady?” I say spitefully. She let’s out a sad sigh.

“Oh, Brienne, I didn’t mean—” she says. “—It’s just that…you’ve never cried and to say you have something in them. You sounded just like my sister. It just shocked me—the memory. I wasn’t laughing at you. I know this is important to you. That it means something and I won’t ever force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“I know…I just don’t want to…disgust you. I am an ogre whether you admit it or not.”

“You are not!” She says angrily and takes my face away from her. “You are not an ogre. You are a woman. You are a beautiful woman.”

More tears crest in my eyes and defeat whatever barriers I have built up over the years of my life. How does this young woman shake me to my core, tear down walls that no man could scale?

“Sansa…” I rasp. “I am hardened, scarred, and manly.”

“You are a warrior, strong, true, and beautiful,” she says again. I am utterly ashamed when a sob escapes my lips.

“Stop, please.”

“Has no one ever said you are beautiful?” She asks. I can’t meet her eyes. “Brienne. Lady Brienne of Tarth!” My eyes snap to hers. “Has no one ever said those things to you ever?” 

“No, not unless it was in jest or in cruelty, my lady,” I whisper. She hugs me so tightly now.

“Oh my dear,” she says. “Oh my sweet, sweet, dear.” She is trembling against me and I know now she is crying.

“Do not cry for me, Sansa. I am not worth it,” I say to her. “Please, never cry for me.” She pulls away yet again and glares at me.

“I will destroy them,” she growls fiercely in a voice she has reserved for speaking of Ramsey. “I will destroy who ever has made you feel this way. Was it your father? Did he…did he hurt?” I take her face.

“Easy, Sansa. It is merely my lot in life. We are not all born with your incredible grace and beauty and people, all people judge…even you.” 

“I never…not after Ramsay, I would never judge you. Not after everything you’ve done.”

“You see me with false eyes because of my deeds. You have not seen me.”

“Then, let me look at you and I will sing praises to the night for your beauty,” she dares me. “I will look fully on you and I will not flinch, because it is the body of a woman and not of a wicked man’s.” She strokes my face. “You are beautiful. Let me show you.”

I shutter at her words. Do I dare? Would she see me as she truly thinks she will? Or will she turn away from me. No one has seen my adult body, not fully. No one has kissed these lips. No one has touched my skin as she has, who has claimed me in more ways then one and yet that is what she is doing. She is slowly claiming everything for herself.


	6. Something new

Rising from my seat, I cross to our shared armoire. She obviously has more clothing than I do. I pull out my tunic and sleep breeches.

She crosses to the bed and sits down in it after hoisting herself into it. She waits expectantly. I stand near her shaking.

“I can’t believe I am actually this frightened. I have faced many a men in battle, fought in wars, and travelled across the known world and yet…” I look into her face. “To share this with another person is terrifying.”

“Show me,” she says. “If you truly wish to know the truth of the matter.”

So I slowly take off my tunic, fold it and set it aside, my shirt comes next hesitantly untucking and I go to remove it, but my cheeks flush.

“Come,” she says gently and I cross to her. She grabs the hem of the shirt. “Arms up.” I lift them and she slides the shirt from my body. Underneath that is an undershirt, but she doesn’t move to take that off, not yet. 

Instead, she touches my arms, strokes them. I look at her fingers so delicate against my skin that the muscles instinctively flutter and flex. My cheeks flush. My mouth dries.

“I’m frightened,” I whisper to her. She pulls me to her and hugs me. She strokes my back.

“There is no reason to be. Nothing has changed here. Whenever you are ready. I’m here,” she promises. I slowly step back. I finger the hem of undershirt. “Arms up?” She asks and I lift them again and she removes this shirt as well.

Her eyebrows go up this time and I think this is surely the moment.

Her hand snake to the longest scar along my side. That one almost killed me when I was still young and inexperienced. It is not the only scar.

“Do scars make us ugly?” She asks me. “You have only seen my smallest ones.”

In that light, I have no words for her. I look into her eyes and shake my head.

“Perhaps they make us even more beautiful?” She wonders aloud. “You take off your breast band in bed.” She knows this because she has felt it, but there is even shame here. I reach up and remove it and feel my cheeks so hot. She actually smiles at me. “They are cute.”

“Cute?” I say and she nods.

“Mine are bigger,” she admits, “but I bet you are happy with their size in your armor.”

“This is true,” I say glad she is bringing logic into this conversation.

“I think I like you’re abs the best,” she says. “Shall I make a list?”

“No, please,” I say quickly and she giggles. Her hands sit on my hips, thumbs burning a furnace into the pit of my stomach with tiny circles pressed into flesh. “Sansa.”

“Yes, Brienne? Are you going to take your pants off now?”

Is she teasing me? I don’t even know what she is doing to me, but this, whatever this is, is cruel.

I quickly strip off my pants and underwear in one go, because I am done with games and let her have the full look of me. Her cheeks flush a pretty pink and I think we are even now. 

She crooks a finger to me and I obey slowly. She doesn’t touch me at first, just has a good look and then twirls her fingers around so I sigh and turn for her.

“Oh no. I change my mind. You’re butt is my favorite,” she says with a firm nod.

“Not my eyes?” I say to her. “Or my golden locks?” 

“You’re golden locks?” She says with a throaty chuckle as she props herself on her elbows. “No, no…I like this freckle.” She lifts up her leg and presses a toe against a small freckle on my abdomen and fire courses through me again.

“Sansa,” I moan. “I’m getting dress. You are in a silly mood.”

“I don’t know what mood I am in after seeing you naked, but it is definitely not silly,” she says frankly. I pull my sleep shirt and then my breeches on.

“I am never undressing in front of you again.” I don’t think I mean it though. This was gratifying in some strange way. She has managed to actually make me not feel like an ogre. It is a new and uncomfortable feeling, but it isn’t bad.

“I fear, I will stare at you. You are a rare specimen,” she says. “Beautiful does not do you justice. Gorgeous, exquisite, divine perhaps…resplendent. Yes, you are resplendent and radiant and dear.”

“Dear?” I say. “That doesn’t fit.” I lean against the bed next to her. My cheeks are so hot still. She leans over and kisses my cheek.

“Darling. May I call you darling?” She asks.

“You may call me anything you like,” I tell her. She makes a face.

“Must you always be so stoic. Don’t you ever feel something…else?”

“I…am feeling a lot of things right now. It is more than…overwhelming, my lady,” I say. “What would you like me to say? This is okay for you? I don’t want to trouble you…”

“You never trouble me, except perhaps when you nestle your head against my shoulder and neck. Your breath on my neck reminds me of Ramsay, but so far nothing else has.”

“That’s good. I will endeavor not to do that. I am rather shocked that I do, do that.”

“When you are tired, you do like to smell me.” My cheeks flame again and she laughs.

“Must you continue?” I ask her. “This is obviously more fun for you than me.”

“No, yes, please,” she says giggling helplessly. I finally smile.

“You do smell good,” I admit. “Like the wierwood blossoms.” She nods.

“They make a bath oil from it,” she says. “Brienne, what I’m saying is…do you ever feel attracted to me? I know that I have many feelings for you and they are confusing. I love how your arms feel around me and how you completely hold me with your whole body in the evening. I love being pressed to your side protectively. Now, seeing you…like this….I fear I have felt more than I have yet to feel. You are quite gorgeous.”

“Lady Stark,” I snap. “Please stop saying I’m pretty.” I am thoroughly flustered. “No one has ever deemed to say such things to me or what you are saying now in the manner in which you speak them, as if they are true. I find I have little experience for attraction other than I am attracted to things I am loyal to.”

“You do not think I am pretty?” She asks quietly, almost hurt. I shake and place my head against the bed. The sheets and blankets are refreshingly chilly against the heat of my face and body.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever set eyes on,” I whisper. “Both inside and out. How can you doubt such a thing?”

“Perhaps you care only for men?”

I turn my head and look at her.

“Sansa, I would not hold you so tightly if I only cared for men,” I whisper. “In fact, I care not for men. I did not know I could care or feel attracted to another being until I met you.”

My voice is trembling and she reaches out strokes my face.

“What do you want from me, Sansa?” I ask her weakly. “I would give you whatever you ask.”

“I would ask you to kiss me, knight,” she says. “Kiss me gently and slowly and with great care for I am a broken vessel.”

I slowly push myself up, sliding closer to her. I don’t know if I’m the one being skittish or if I fear she will be.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whisper.

“You could never hurt me, my darling,” she replies just as quiet. “Kiss me. I have dreamt of it all week. Perhaps longer…”

“Really?” I ask her. She nods, cheeks so soft and pink. I reach out and stroke her face. Her eyes are so blue, much darker than mine. I get lost looking at them.

“I will call you pretty again if you don’t hurry,” she says.

“Then, you kiss me,” I dare her. “You lead…where others have not allowed—-”

Her lips touch mine hesitantly. I’m dumbstruck by the lightening that dances through my whole body. Her lips are plush and soft. They move gently against mine and I have no idea what I am doing, but I’m soon lost in nothing but the flavor of her, the scent of her. My Sansa.

She pulls away, gasping softly. I touch her chin, my other hand presses against her shoulder to keep me steady. She is so beautiful.

“That was everything,” she whispers. “You are everything, Brienne.” Her eyes cloud up with tears and I kiss her just a little harder, but just as reverently as before. I still let her lead.

Her lips part mine at last and I feel her tongue tentatively skirt my bottom lip. I feel her begin to suck it and I moan, pulling away and pressing my forehead against her.

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Brienne?” She asks me. I shake my head. “I am honored to be your first.”

“You are…there are no words for you, Sansa,” I whisper.

“Come to bed,” she says. “Come be with me.”

“Always.” I climb in after her and slide into my customary position behind her, careful this time to place my head on top of hers and not in the crook of her neck.

“Brienne,” she says and rolls over to look at me. “I want to see your face. Is this something you want?”

“What?”

“To be with me like this?”

“You are the Lady of Winterfell. I will be with you as long as you allow me,” I whisper.

“No, I need you to think passed your duty,” she says and touches my face. “I don’t want you with me because of duty. I will always accept your service, but this? Do you want me?”

I take a deep breathe.

“I’m scared…” I whisper. “No one has ever wanted me and you are the Lady of Winterfell. You could marry one day—”

“I will never marry again, not a man,” she snarls deep in her throat. “Never, Brienne.” My eyes widen. “And you are a Lady too, lest you forget.”

“Yes, I do sometimes,” I admit. “I am not good at being a lady.”

“Then, be my knight if you wish,” she says. “But only if you wish.”

“I will be the knight of your heart,” I say gently. She leans forward and kisses me again, sending heat to my core.

“I might love you,” I whisper, dry mouthed. She smiles at me gently.

“I’m not sure I’m capable of love anymore, but I am certainly passionate about you. I care for you deeper than anyone in my life, even family, even Winterfell.” I gaze at her and stroke her cheek.

“I love you for you,” I say. “You can call me or say to me whatever you like to express your feelings for me. I know your heart.” I pull her close to me. “I will always care for you. I will always be here and I will always protect you.”

“Oh Brienne,” she says. “Now, it’s your turn to stop. You will make me upset and then we’ll ruin this.”

“Okay,” I say. “So we remain as we are then? Behind closed doors?”

“For now. I don’t wish to share you, nor is it anyone’s business. No one will control me ever again.”

“Yes, no one,” I agree. “I will make sure of that!” She smiles at me and kisses me again fiercely this time. Instead, of letting me hold her, she insists on hugging me and falling asleep wrapped up in me as if I’m a blanket.

More than ever, I am happy that the nights are so cold in Winterfell that I can be so cozy against her. Tonight, though it seems my body has been awakened in ways it has never felt before. The kissing has stoked a furnace in me that sits low in my belly and tingles through me like hot ash, but Sansa doesn’t seem to mind..

Her fingers stray to my abs and strokes the grooves. I press my cheek on the top of her head, shut my eyes. Every night, I don’t think I could be more relaxed, more comfortable with this person in my life and then my body melts a little more against her and we are just that much closer to being one.


	7. Arya

That morning, I wake up with her still in my arms. She is there. She is mine and I love her. I press deeper into her, not wanting to waste a moment of this.

She murmurs against me, hand reaching for my hair and stroking it.

“Did you dream well, Brienne?” She asks me.

“I dreamt of you,” I whisper with a crooked smile on my face. Yes, I love her in the morning. Face relaxed and smooth after having no nightmares yet again.

“Food will be coming soon,” I say. “Are you hungry? I can’t feel as many knobs on your spine this morning.”

She peeks open one of her eyes.

“Do you check every morning?” She asks. I nod.

“Of course. How will I know if you are having enough to eat or not?” I ask her and she smiles at me. She leans in and kisses me.

Her breath tastes hideous and I make a face. She laughs and presses her forehead against my shoulder.

“I am so glad you are you and no one else. I couldn’t bear living this life without you, darling.” I flush at her words.

“Brush your teeth and I will kiss you all morning,” I promise. “But not right now.” She slides out of bed and stretches, quite happily, pulling on her robe and I’m pleased. Pleased she is happy. That she is mine. That I have been trusted enough to care for her in such a manner as this.

She would not trust just anyone and I have earned the trust of the Lady of Winterfell.

The servant comes in with a great many trays to entice Lady Sansa into eating. 

“You mustn’t waste food on me, Martha. Tell the cook not to send up so much tomorrow,” she scolds, but the young woman shakes her head.

“Digory insists! He won’t send less until he knows you’re eating properly, my lady.”

“He’s as bad as Lady Brienne,” she grumbles and the servant looks to me, cheeks flushing at the sight of me still in bed. I realize what we must look like or not look like. In Winterfell, I’m sure it’s not unusual for servants to share beds to keep warm, even with nobility. The concept is probably not unusual, but does the world know about us just by how we look? 

Should I have risen? I am her servant, but I am also Lady Brienne of Tarth. She’s right. I have a right to stay in the bed of the Lady Winterfell, especially if she wishes it.

The servant leaves us and leaves me to my pondering.

“Will you stay in bed?” She asks me.

“Perhaps. You’ve given me much to think on as usual,” I say and slowly rise to get dress.

“I must get you more clothes,” she says with a sigh. “You have been wearing those for a week. They are starting to smell.”

“The challenges of being a warrior,” I say. “I will have them cleaned properly tonight and see if I can find something in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” she says. I settle beside her when I’m finished. “Today, I like your lean back side.” I slide my arm around her chair, lean her back so she squeals, and kiss her fiercely. She wraps her arms around my neck, sliding into my lap.

“You must eat,” I tell her.

“Then, I will eat from here,” she assures me, spinning easily and pulling her plate over. “Help me. There is too much as usual.”

I sigh and obey. She sighs content against me, grabbing her work, and accepting food from me when I press. She is slowly worming into every part of me I realize and I kiss the back of her head.

“You’re gorgeous even in the morning,” I say. “How do you do it?”

“You aren’t so bad yourself,” she says, but doesn’t look at me. A knock comes to the door and she moves so quickly to it. I instantly miss the warmth on my lap and think I should be the one getting the door, but she opens it.

“Lady Arya has arrived at Winterfell, Lady Stark. I thought you’d wish to know as soon as possible.”

“Arya, here! She’s alive, Brienne. I’ll get dressed immediately. Try to arrange a meeting. Keep an eye on her in the mean time.” She closes the door and prances, literally prances to the armoire. She sees me watching.

“What, darling?” She says with a wicked curl to my lip. “Another sibling alive, another Stark. We will have vengeance. The world will rue the day it messed with us.” I smile at her and look away as she begins undressing, not wishing to press her on her body though I am curious as to what it looks like. I imagine it as beautiful as anything I have yet seen.

Today, she is dressed in her black ensemble that makes her seem so strong and cold. She wants to appear powerful for her sister, for the people of Stark. The cold mask drops over her face and my heart aches as she walks over and takes a kiss.

“Dress in your armor today. Let me help,” she says. “I want to make a statement to her.” I nod. I know about posturing, so I rise and lift my cuirass and I feel her fingers meet mine.

“I should do this,” I murmur to her, but she continues as if I haven’t spoken.

“We are in this together now, Brienne,” she says. “Together.” She tucks her hand behind my neck when she finishes and brings me down for a soft kiss. “Come along.” She says this in her Lady of Winterfell voice. 

Before we leave, I reach out and stroke her arm. She stops, looking at me. The mask flickers as she waits to see what I want.

“Love you,” I whisper and she hugs me tightly. 

“I adore you,” she replies, releases me and walks out. I follow as is our roles outside the room.

***  
We find Arya in the tombs before their father’s grave. She looks better than the last time I saw her, less like street urchin and more like something dangerous, tiny but dangerous. She is dressed in travel clothes, worn, but there is a hint armor. She is decidingly fierce and I position myself ready for anything between the pair.

They were not exactly friendly before. Sansa crosses to her and hugs her tightly. They trade banter and it’s uncomfortable along the edges. 

Arya looks at me carefully.

“You always travel with a guard these days?” She asks.

“Yes,” Sansa says stiffly. “You know Brienne.”

“We’ve met,” Arya says, nodding her head. “She helped me escape the Hound. Not many could face him and live.”

“I am good at facing people and living. That’s why your sister allows me to be her personal guard,” I warn her carefully. A small wicked smile touches her face. She flourishes with a bow.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet properly, Lady Brienne,” she says. I frown at her. She is cocky. I wonder if she has earned the right.

Her eyes drop back to Sansa. Her body language says she thinks I am a greater threat than she let’s on and she is right. I may have once made an oath to both daughters safety, but it is Sansa that I serve.

“She is awful protective,” she says in a careful voice. 

“We have been through a lot,” Sansa says. Her voice rough with hidden emotion. “She has saved my life many times now. What do you care if I have a personal guard?”

“I care for anything that stands between the life of a Stark these days. You trust her?”

“With my life, Arya,” she says exasperated. “When did you become so protective?”

“When our father and mother died,” she says coldly. “We will speak later, Lady Stark.” She leaves the tomb, eyeing me as she leaves.

“That was peculiar. I don’t think she likes you,” Sansa says with a smile. 

“No, I don’t think she does. How does that make you feel?”

“We have rarely agreed on things. What do you think of her?”

“She hides beneath her innocence. She is as dangerous as you are, Lady Stark. Perhaps even more,” I reply. 

“Dangerous towards?” 

“Your enemies. I would not cross her openly,” I say. She nods, taking in my words.

“Ready?” She asks. I squeeze her hands and we exist the tomb.

After lunch, I work with Pod again as I do everyday as Lady Sansa takes a turn around the courtyard with Baelish. Her sister, Arya, watches intrigued by the fight. Then, she offers a trade in blades.

So I concur, wishing to see what level a threat she might be to Sansa if the need should arise. I don’t think she will be much. She is still young and cocky.

Her movements are solid. As we progress I find myself impressed. Enjoying the flow of combat. Grinning by the end of it, our blades at each other’s throats I know I have met a worthy match at last.

“Impressive, Lady Arya,” I say pleased to know that another woman has successfully taken up arms. “Where did you learn that?”

“No one,” she says. I lift an eyebrow and then nod. 

“Another time,” I say, wondering what Sansa is thinking about this. I walk away feeling good about what I have learned.

Sansa is cold the rest of the day. Not asking my opinion or looking toward me much, but when we reach her room, she is much the same. She doesn’t move to the table to eat.

“Sansa…”

“Don’t,” she says and plops on the couch.

“Don’t?” I ask confused. “Are you okay?” I move to the couch and try to see her face, but she looks cold and stiff. Something I’ve never seen in this room. “Sansa.”

“I said, don’t,” she snarls at me and I stiffen. She glares at me. “Will you serve my sister as you have served me?”

“I did swear an oath to your mother. You know I don’t take my oaths lightly, but I will not lie to you. I’m bound more than by an oath to you.” Her shoulders begin to relax.

“You liked fighting with her,” she says. “You admire her.”

“Are you jealous?” I ask her. “Of me?” 

“Of course, I am,” she snarls at me. “My sister pleases everyone while rebelling against every structure placed on her life. She has done nothing right and yet she flounces around the castle unhurt…impressing others so easily…” There is an old hate in her eyes.

“Sansa, listen to yourself. You have no idea what happened to your sister. She travelled with the Hound for who knows how long, and disappeared. That woman has not experienced nothing.”

“You’re defending her!” She challenges me.

“Shh, listen to yourself,” I say. “She’s your sister. She has no power here. You are the Lady of Winterfell and have earned the respect of powerful people. You use wisdom and are cunning. Your strength is in the connections you forge and the loyalty you inspire. Arya doesn’t inspire loyalty. She is a lone wolf, an assassin.”

“An assassin?” She asks. “Would you love an assassin over me?” Her voice is hurt and small. I bark a laugh.

“I no more love Arya than I do Jon Snow,” I say. “I have never loved a soul until you walked in…ran into my life. You’ve consumed me mind, body, and soul. I am yours. My loyalty is to the Lady of Stark first.”

She looks at me, eyes watery, but not crying.

“Father always loved her best,” she whispers. “Where do you think she learned to fight? He gave her dancing lessons with Syrio Forel.”

“Syrio Forel wasn’t the only man who had formation in her training,” I reply thoughtfully. “You must use her wisely. She is dangerous and smart.”

“I’m not sure…I can use my sister,” Sansa replies. “She is too smart for me. She will see right through me, because she knows me.” I nod.

“Then, you must work with her,” I say. “I’m here and I will always be here. That hasn’t changed.” She sighs.

“You looked so happy. I don’t think I have made you look so happy.”

“You have not crossed blades with me. It’s a unique experience,” I say. “I do not wish to cross blades with you, ever.” She looks at me.

“Then, my sister will share something I can never share with you,” she says, sounding sad now. I touch her shoulder.

“But we will experience so many things she will never know,” I say. “That will only be between us and no one else, dear Sansa. She cannot have my heart for I have given it away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have three more chapters to post, but I'm running into an issue. So I thought I'd see if you guys have an opinion. Would you like me to wait and see what the new season brings and adhere to canon or make something up that probably will not be as bittersweet as whatever the writers are going to create for Winterfell, the Starks, and Brienne? Thoughts and opinions?


	8. Dinner with Arya

“Will you eat now?” I ask. She looks at me. Her eyes dark with emotion.

“I am truly not hungry,” she admits.

“Are you ever hungry?” I ask her and her cheeks flush as she shakes her head no. 

“I do not wish to eat,” she replies.

“Tonight then, you shall not. I will not make you do anything.” She reaches for me and I slip on the couch next to her.

“Were you truly scared for my affections? No one has ever loved me, cared for me, or even seen me, Sansa. The fact that you have…one day you will realize you are committing a great folly.”

She nestles into me.

“I was jealous. I didn’t think you fell in love with her so quickly, but you did enjoy the fight. You shared something with her.”

“I saw myself in her when I was a child. When I was her age…” I admit. “That is all.”

“Are you saying, I adore a woman who is like my sister?”

“I am not an assassin,” I say stiffly and she laughs. 

“You sound so disgusted,” she says. 

A knock comes to the door. Hesitant, I rise to my feet and open the door. Arya is surprised to see me.

“My sister wasn’t in the hall for supper. Is she here?” She asks. I nod.

“It’s your sister, Lady Stark,” I say formally and step aside. She peaks in and sees her sister on the couch.

“You don’t eat supper in the great hall? They say you never do—take meals there.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t like…it reminds me of…”

“Never mind, can I eat with you guys? I just want to be around family. It’s been so long.” I look to Sansa who finally nods.

“The food is on the table,” Sansa says.

“That isn’t an answer,” Arya says, hovering at the door, folding her arms.

“You may join us, but I’m not sure how much I will be able to eat personally,” Sansa says, sighing, and rises to her feet. “Someone does need to eat the food or the chef will fuss at me.”

“Are you sick?” Arya says, crossing to the table. “I miss this room. It’s so weird that you live here now instead of Mom and dad.”

“Yes, I know…” she says. “Brienne, don’t. Just sit down. It’s my sister not…the inquisition.” I nod and hesitantly take the seat not taken. Arya looks between us and decides to focus on Sansa.

“This is your favorite meal. Shepherd’s pie and you’re not going to eat it?” She asks. Sansa rolls her eyes.

“If you are going to fuss, you can take your food and go, Arya. I’ve got enough people fussing about my diet.”

“You are thin, even for you,” Arya says. “Are you ill? You are pale.”

“Arya,” she says a little too sharply. Arya looks at her warily. “I eat, but not today. Today is an anniversary that I care not to remember. One that was driven into flesh so soundly that it screams at me and demands everything.”

“Okay, as long as you do eat. She does, doesn’t she?”

“I try to make her eat as much as I can, Lady Arya. It is a hard task, but one I take seriously. She is better than she was, I promise.”

“Enough,” Sansa says. “She doesn’t need to know more.” I nod.

“You won’t tell me what the world knows? Shall I ask Littlefinger?”

“They married me to Ramsay.”

“The bastard?” She snarls. “What did he do to you?”

“He’s dead for his crimes against me,” she barks at her.

“You helped her?” Arya asks. I nod. “Good.” She eats now, looking easier. “I would have killed him if you had not.”

“That is…that is kind of you to wish to seek my own vengeance, but I can protect myself now. I don’t need anyone.”

“Except Lady Brienne.”

“I need her for other reasons now,” she says quietly and looks at me.

“Other reasons?” Arya says. “Oh…”

“We are together. It is secret.”

“I understand. Those sort of affections will only be used against you,” Arya says coldly. “It is bad enough we have family.”

“You aren’t surprised.”

“You were hovering in the courtyard during your meeting with Littlefinger.”

“I was watching you,” she says. 

“Don’t lie to me. I saw the way you looked at me after the fight. You were perturbed. You know I have training. So it shouldn’t have surprised you that I continued my training…no something else bothered you and that was us fighting. Why? Jealousy, I say.”

She stiffens.

“I was not!” She snaps. Arya laughs.

“My lady, she is baiting you,” I warn. “She is still your youngest sister and she knows how to pull your strings.”

“I am sorry,” Arya says on second thought. “It’s surprising how easily it comes to me after all this time. How long has it been? Six years? Seven? We were just children.”

“You still should be,” Sansa says, voice softening. “Did you ever wonder that perhaps I’m sadden by your loss of childhood. You had it even less than we did.”

“Less than our Rikon and Bran?” Arya demands darkly. “It isn’t right, but things are so rarely right in this world. We must take it. You know Littlefinger is a dick, right? He will want you to kill me.”

“Of course. I’m managing him. I will need your help with that,” she says easily as if their spat was only that. I am glad to hear it. To hear the alliance forming between them. 

“Then, we will be enemies after this?” She says.

“Until Baelish is dead or has lost his usefulness,” Sansa says with a curt nod. “He is nearly there already. He wants the North. He wants the throne and he will do everything to get it. And worse, he wants me.”

“You are taken. Why don’t you tell him?”

“I won’t be able to utilize him as effectively,” she says with a lazy shrug as if it doesn’t bother her. “His feelings for our mother and my likeness is what has gained my favor with him. We must use that weakness. He must not even have an inkling that we are connected.”

“I take it you have no interest in another marriage?” Arya says. “Even to make a powerful alliance then, to bear heirs?”

Sansa snorts in an unladylike fashion.

“I will never marry a man again. Haven’t I married or been given away enough?”

“A woman perhaps?” Arya says eyeing me.

“Maybe one day the law will change,” she says with an easy smile and I shoot a glance at her. Arya laughs at my expression.

“Did you just propose to your knight? I guess, I know where your true loyalty lies,” she says amused. 

“I take my oaths seriously, but I will not deny that my affections for Sansa will be weighed into any decisions.”

“I like her, Sansa. She may be worth her weight,” Arya says in her cocky manner, relaxing back. “This Shepherd’s pie is good.”

“I have no appetite nor will to eat, Arya.”

“Did someone along the way mess with you…?”

“Mess with me…” she says and laughs cruelly. “Mess with me, Arya? You have no idea what they have done to me. What he did to me…” She sneers and rises to her feet.

“I will if you tell me.”

“She hasn’t even told me,” I tell Arya.

“You aren’t her sister,” Arya says. “I won’t judge you.”

“You’ve judged me since you were born,” she snaps. “Will you tell me what happened to you? How you became an assassin?”

“Assassin? Is that what we’re calling me now?” She says amused, crossing her arms.

“Is that what you are? Or something more?”

“I don’t know what I am. I am not a Brienne of Tarth. An assassin is close enough. It will work for now.”

“I hope I will not have to fear my own sister.”

“No, I hope not either. It isn’t my intention to make you fear me. Though I am dangerous, but I know you are too. You hide it, but you have a brutal edge yourself.”

“You see people too, don’t you?” Sansa asks. Arya nods.

“I observe,” she admits. “That’s all you need to know.”

“That’s acceptable. Let’s talk Baelish.”

“Sounds good.”

***  
After Arya leaves, Sansa prepares for bed. 

“May I watch this time?” I ask and she pauses over the lace of her dress.

“Do scars make a woman ugly?” She asks me, facing away. I look at my own scarred hands. 

“No,” I say. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life. Come here, silly girl,” she teases me. I rise to my feet, mouth dry as I cross to the bed. “Sit down. Will you take off your shirt at least? Ramsay, the Bastard, never undressed.”

“I’ll strip for you,” I say and rake off my tunic, shirt, and undershirt in one go. She chuckles in a low tone. I pull off my band.

“That’s good. I feel better. You’re so different from anybody I’ve encountered,” she says.

She releases the ties of her dress and it rolls it off her body, turning to hang it up. I gasp. There are so many scars…burns lining her back, whip marks, corkscrews scars, razor cuts, and more. It looks like someone dropped hot oil on her, raked nails, and even bit her.

She pulls off her breast band and faces me. I let out a meager sigh. Even her breast, her beautiful breasts have been tainted by that evil man. One of her nipples looks like it had once been bitten clean through. There is a terrible bite, multiple bite wounds on her neck where he claimed her viscously.

“Will you ever see me again?” She asks in a dead voice.

“Help me,” I say and she takes my chin and guides my face and eyes to hers. “Sansa…” I whisper tears in my eyes.

“Or will you only see him?”

“You are so beautiful,” I whisper and she brings me close for a gentle kiss. “May I touch you?”

“Slowly…so slowly and always softly…” her voice trembles. “Your touch is so different.”

“Watch me,” I say and glide off the bed. “I’m putting my hands on your hips and will lift you to our bed.” She nods and let’s me lift her to the bed. She sinks into the covers.

I take her right foot, scarred and burned too. It is familiar, a safe place. I gently press a kiss to her heel reverently.

This isn’t about making love. This is about her claiming her body again. About her seeing herself differently. About me learning every scar, every burn, and loving the woman underneath them.

I kiss each toe. Then, I transfer to the other foot, move up her calf to her knee before switching again. Then, I take her left hand rather than move up her thigh.

“What are you doing?” She asks me, smiling gently. Tears in her eyes, but she doesn’t cry them. Instead, she accepts the kisses. I move up her arms to her collar bones, kiss her forehead, cheeks, nose and then I kiss her belly. She watches me.

“Trust me?” I ask. She nods with a gentle smile.

Then, I ask her to turn over, kissing her back, her rear—bitten too—and she laughs gently before I turn her again. I don’t kiss her neck. Not yet. I kiss each nipple. The hurt one last and meet her eyes as I dip low and kiss her inner thighs.

She gasps at this, and starts to move.

“Please, Brienne. Must you?” She asks.

“I must,” I say and kiss the bush and the lips of her womanhood. Then, I crawl along her body to her neck, to where he claimed her so viscously and I kiss the bite wounds.

A sob breaks loose at last and I pull her to me, so she can cry freely. She cries most freely pressed against me in the safety of my arms.

“Beautiful,” I whisper.

“You have worshiped my body. My broken shattered body, my darling. Don’t you wish to make love to me?”

“Not tonight. One day perhaps when you are ready, but this isn’t about sex. This is about you.” She looks at me confused.

“They only wanted me for my body, for my title…for the North. I was never my own person.”

“You are always Sansa with me,” I whisper, stroking a corkscrew scar on her abdomen. “Do you wish to talk?”

“I never wish to talk about my scars,” she says with a sigh. “How about one story?”

“The one I’m touching, if you can remember.”

“The corkscrew one?” She asks. Her fingers intermingle with mine. “On my belly? He offered me wine for the first the time after a month. I took a drink and he stabbed me there, twisted it and fucked me afterwards laughing as he ripped off my bloody, filthy clothes.”

She looks at the ceiling as I sit up and kiss it again. Once, twice, three times until she let’s out a shaky breath, crying softly.

“Let me clothe you,” I say and get up to get her nightclothes. I help her sit up and drop it over her head and she snakes her arms through the sleeves and slides it down and over her body with some maneuvering. 

I get dressed myself and slide next to her, but make no other move to touch her. She rolls over and looks at me. Her hand finds my cheek.

“I love you,” she says. “I didn’t think I was capable of it, but tonight I love you so much it hurts.” She slides closer until she is flushed with my body. “Hold me, please, Brienne. I need you.” My arms wrap around her of their own accord. 

“I love you too, Sansa,” I say quietly. “You know, how lucky I am? I have spent my whole life alone…and then you change that in one moment.” She smiles a tiny secret smile. Her hand finding my face again.


	9. Unexpected Moments

“It’s hard to find you without your shadow,” Arya says leaning against the wall outside the common room. Sansa has sent me with a message to one of the clerks. She had already used up the lesser messengers and this is important.

I look down at the message.

“Come along if you wish to speak, Lady Arya,” I say and start walking. She’s quiet, so quiet I’m not sure she is with me until I look down and she is there.

“Arya. Just Arya. I don’t feel like a lady,” she admits. “I thought you followed her around, but on further observation it’s the other way around, isn’t it?”

“Depends on the time and the reason,” I say. “It adjusts between us. I hardly notice anymore.”

“That’s a ball and chain to you.”

“She is no burden to me,” I reply, but I am happy to be outside and pause there. We have some privacy. “What do you wish of me, Arya?”

“My sister was hurt by the Bastard. Can you tell me what he did to her?” She asks. I look down at her shrewdly.

“That is not my tale to speak of.”

“The world knows and I do not wish to draw it out of her. It obviously pains her.”

“The world only knows a superficial truth.”

“I’m her sister. I need to know…” Arya’s hands become fists.

“And what will you do with this knowledge?” I ask of her. “You cannot seek vengeance for her.”

“I love my sister. No matter how I tease her, I love her and someone has hurt her and I can’t do anything about it.” I nod finally.

“He hurt her badly. Raped her every night of their marriage, beat her, and more. He was cruel, manipulated her and tortured her. I have…I have never seen a woman as scarred as she.”

“She’s shown you?” Arya whispers. I nod slowly. “She must really love you. I’m glad…I know what I said about love being a weakness, but she’s softer…still. She needs something to hold her together. Be her glue. If you didn’t come I think she’d be a monster like him, like Cersei.”

I swallow.

“We all walk a fine line in this world. She isn’t soft.”

“With you she still is, maybe not out here…outside her room,” she says. “I want her to never hurt again.”

“I don’t know if that is possible, Arya, but that is my desire as well.” She nods, looking troubled.

“Don’t tell her I talked to you,” she says. “I don’t want her to know…”

“How much you care?” I ask amused. She frowns at me.

“Yes,” she snaps. “It won’t do her any good to get softer on me. She needs to know I’m a blade not…” I nod and touch her shoulder.

“I understand.”

“But you love her? Really love her?” She asks in a little girl voice that belies everything I know about her in this moment. 

“Yes, I love her with all of my being,” I say quietly. “I have never loved anyone, Arya.”

“I…it’s okay. You don’t have too,” Arya sounds uncomfortable. “Just protect her. That’s all. If you hurt her, I’ll kill you. Don’t think I won’t find a way. You may fight with honor, but I’m not afraid to break the rules.”

“I know, Arya. Your love for your sister is admirable.”

“You better hurry and deliver that message. I’ll keep an eye on her in the meantime. She gets antsy when you aren’t around.”

“I thank you,” I say and move quickly to finish my task. I think about Lady Arya and realize that Sansa is lucky to have her, even if they are so different.

It’s always so good to return to the rooms. I have made sure the chef has made her Shepherd’s pie again tonight and Lady Stark hugs me tightly for being thoughtful.

“You spoil me, darling,” she says and eats it all for the first time. It is a small bowl and she returns to the couch afterwards. I sit next to her and she leans against me.

“I treasure these moments,” she says. “We work so hard to heal our lands and yet I am so selfish that I wish I could spend every second in your safety. Arya was hovering today.”

“She asked about you,” I say. “I didn’t tell her anything anyone else didn’t know.”

“Thank you,” Sansa replies. “I don’t want her to know…how weak I’ve become.”

“She knows you aren’t weak. Do you know?” I ask and kiss her shoulder gently. She looks at me.

“Sometimes I feel terribly weak. I hated having you away from me…you are so patient with me.”

“It is my duty. Whether it is standing near you, fighting your battles or keeping an eye on you,” I say. “All you have to do is communicate with me and I will disappear or stay near.”

“I wish…I love being near you, but I wish I could feel safe without you.”

I pull out a bracelet from my pouch.

“I made this for you, so even when I am away you know that I am not far,” I assure her. She nods and takes the simple bracelet. It is of the Saphire Isle style, thick and full of stones. Not exactly her style.

“I will treasure this. It reminds me of you,” she says and kisses my cheek gently. “Is there anything I can do for you? After everything you’ve done for me.”

“Sansa, you have given me something I didn’t even know I wanted. We can practice being apart if you wish for longer lengths of time. I can give you more distance.”

Her face becomes pained and she hugs me tightly.

“I don’t want to, but I know it’s for the best. There’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You endured something terrible. It’s normal. We’ll work together on it as you need to,” I say. “I’ll always be nearby.”

This seems acceptable. She seems willing to try to work on putting some distance between us during the day. I can pick up more duties slowly, but not after we see how she does.

***  
Things settle into a routine. A week passes with us working on lengthening the time she can be apart from me in particular. It does not go unnoticed that when I am gone for any length of time that Arya seems to appear and for that she is beyond grateful even if she won’t say it.

Then, one day I wake up to someone chocking me, painfully digging claw-like appendages into my throat. Instantly, I move. Years of training have prepared me for this moment. I slam my arms out against my foe’s instead of going toward my neck.

They give out rather quickly and I move my hip and leg over the small weight on top of me as I turn them onto the bed. The bed? I’m in the room, rasping for breath, struggling to breathe still. Sansa is beneath me looking shocked and confused.

“Where am I? What happened? Oh no, no, no!” She yells and reaches for my throat. I flinch away instinctively. It aches and I try to speak, but the air rakes against the abused tract.

“Sansa, it’s okay,” I manage. I get off of her and sit up, struggling to force air in my lungs. She had really tried to kill me. I reach up and feel something hot and slick. I pull my hand away and see blood. She has managed to gouge me badly with her nails. 

I go to stand up, but I’m dizzy. I sit back down quickly.

“Stay put,” she commands and rolls off the bed. She sounds like she is crying.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, because it’s easier than trying to speak at my normal volume.

“It’s far from okay, Brienne,” she snaps at me. I frown at her. She brings the basin of water to me and a wash rag before dabbing at the wounds. “It’s just superficial, but I obviously hurt you.”

“You were having a nightmare. I hope killing that little fucker,” I growl. She lifts an eyebrow.

“I already killed Ramsay,” she says, but nods stiffly. “It seems he still abuses me even in dreams. For what it is worth I am sorry. Maybe we shouldn’t…sleep together?” I shake my head.

“I’m fine. Did I hurt you? I wasn’t thinking,” I say. She tilts her head.

“I’m fine. My arms hurt, but I deserve it,” she says. “I nearly killed you.”

“You did not nearly kill me. Far from it,” I say able to speak more. “I’m fine. Really. I can handle you.” 

“You can handle me? You shouldn’t have to handle me,” she snarls. She gets up and starts to get dressed. I don’t know what to do. How to make it better.

“Sansa…” I whisper.

“Don’t. Let me figure this out.”

“Are you going to eat?” I ask and she looks at the food with disgust.

“No, not today,” she says as if she will abandon all meals. She pulls on her cloak.

“Don’t abuse yourself on my behalf. I will not allow it,” I bark at her. She looks at me.

“I just need to think,” she says and walks out of the room, leaving me alone. I bury my face in my hands.

When I manage to get myself together that morning, I feel a little off kilter, like I’m missing a limb. Once I get to the bottom of the stairs, someone shoves me against the wall. I stare down numbly at Arya. I have no fight in me.

“What did you do my sister? She’s upset!” She says and then she sees my throat. “Oh…she attacked you? You hurt her!”

“She had a nightmare,” I say quietly and she stops her dangerous tirade. It makes enough sense with the evidence she has gathered that she nods.

“Very well, she attacked you in her sleep. Quite a vicious mark she left, Brienne. Do you need a healer?” I shake my head. “It’s going to bruise.” I nod. She smiles grimly. “She probably feels wretched, but you look like you kicked a dog.”

“She is beating herself over this and it’s barely a scratch.”

“It’s more than a scratch,” Arya says. “But you love her.” I nod. “You let her beat herself up too dreadfully about this.”

“I’m going to talk to her…she didn’t give me a chance.”

“I will talk to her then,” Arya says. “She might just need to think. She likes to think about things.” I nod. I know that. I let out a long sigh. “Just give her some space then?” I nod again and she starts to move away.

“Thanks, Arya,” I say hesitantly. She looks back at me, eyes flat and dangerous.

“It’s for my sister,” she says and disappears as quickly as she appears.

The rest of the day, I’m a mess. A shadow to Sansa during the meetings and a ghost during the day in the practice courts. Pod makes terrible doting noises over my neck and insists on placing a herb salve on it and wrapping it gently.

“Scratches can get infected,” he says. “You don’t want an infection.” I decide to whoop him effectively when he finally let’s me practice with him. It’s the only reprieve I have for the day, being tough on him. He takes it in his usual way.


	10. Brienne, the Beauty

It is very late when I arrive to our room. Sansa is sitting on the couch waiting for me, I think. I sit down next to her. She’s in her sleeping clothes.

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming back,” she whispers.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to after this morning,” I murmur and there is hurt in my voice. She looks at me, tears in her eyes.

“I am so sorry,” she whispers. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, Sansa,” I snap too quickly. I breathe and speak again. “Yes, it did hurt and it will heal, but you are worth it. I…love you, Sansa.” She falls against me and starts sobbing.

“To see the look on your face when I awoke…to see the blood and the bruising…I did that. I did that.”

“Shhh,” I whisper. “I’m here. I’m not leaving. If I had been cognizant I would have been much more careful. I wouldn’t have struck you…I responded just as much in defense as you did.”

“And yet I am not hurt and you have that hideous mark on your throat. I tried to kill you in my sleep. What if I had managed it?”

“I am not a daisy that you can trample,” I say annoyed. “The likelihood you could kill me in my sleep is fairly slim.”

“What if I had a dagger next time?” She asks. “We keep weapons in our room.”

“Sansa…I will take a stab from you if it means you are killing your demons,” I assure her. “I don’t know how to help you, maybe a sleeping remedy? How frequently do you dream?”

“A lot,” she says embarrassed. “But usually not that vividly. I don’t know why it was different.”

“Let’s just wait and see what happens. If it gets worse, we can find a medicinal solution. Sometimes soldiers need such a thing while they are not fighting to sleep. They get lost in the war and fighting and hurt people. It is something I might very well do one day.”

“I’m sorry I ignored you all day.”

“Don’t be. You needed to think,” I say.

“You were right it was more for self-flagellation purposes, denying myself the comfort I so desired from you. But seeing that mark on your throat…I’m glad you covered it. It was a small reprieve, though I don’t want to ever forget what I have done, for I hope I will never do it again.”

“Sansa.”

“I love you, Brienne and if I ever hurt you again I don’t think I could bear it,” she snarls. “The fact that insidious monster can still affect me, can make me hurt my…my…” She stops, because she doesn’t have a word for us. She touches my cheek, eyes softening. “My darling.” 

My cheeks flush.

“I don’t think I could live in such a world where I scar you so easily,” she says and looks away. I take her hand and kiss it gently.

“I love you,” I say again. She shutters against me, blue eyes still dark with hurt.

“Oh, my good, good Brienne. I don’t deserve you,” she says and starts kissing me.

“Have you eaten? I won’t kiss you more unless you have eaten,” I tell her and she plops her head against my collarbone with a groan. I scoop her up, she squeals gripping my neck, and I carry her to the table where our cold supper awaits.

I don’t release her when I sit down. 

“Have you eaten at all?” I ask quietly and she shakes her head. “Please?” She nods and accepts the cold food from me and returning the favor. She eats most of it after not eating all day and then I take her to bed, refusing to release her.

“A lady, could get use to such knightly attentions,” she says with a shy smile. “I ate…don’t I get those kisses?” I smile down at her and start kissing gently. “Will you take off your shirt?”

I strip out of it to make her feel more comfortable and her hand rests against my muscular abdomen as we continue to kiss.

“Forgive me.”

“Always,” I whisper against her flesh. “Over and over again. I will bear your scars as banners of honor and victory.”

“Oh shut up,” she says annoyed and I chuckle against her again. Something is heated in my core and I want her, but I know tonight isn’t the night. Not with my neck so freshly bandaged with her wounds. She will only see that and I don’t want our first time to be an anniversary for something so dark, so connected to that bastard of a man.

She breathes in the scent of me and I’m glad I bathed in the public bathhouses before coming. 

“I love you,” she says against me when we’ve had our fill. Her fingers stroking over my naked body “You should get dressed for bed.” I kiss the top of her head. “I do love your body so much. I could…I could...”

“Sansa…” I whisper gently. “Not tonight. Soon.”

“Soon?” She says and actually sounds hopeful. “Do you think I could pleasure you? The only experience of sex I had was painful and cruel. To think I could give someone pleasure seems…unfathomable.”

“When and if you are ready…I have lived a celibate life in my knightly duties. I would continue to do so if I had to…to be with you. It’s not a requirement.” She let’s out a rush of breath.

“You must have needs, Brienne.” 

I pull away from her and begin to get dressed, feeling uncomfortable.

“I have poured all my unrequited desires into the fight,” I say. “Until you, I never dreamed anyone could look at me without disgust.” She scowls at me.

“I will not abide your negative talk anymore,” she says to me frankly.

“Do you wish me to say, yes, my lady?” I ask her darkly, not sliding back into bed next to her. I lean down against my elbows.

“Yes, yes I do. On this I do,” she says seriously. “You’re beautiful, Brienne.” I shoot up and walk away from the bed, despite the chill and the longing in my bones to cuddle next to her.

“Why must you vex me so?” I say, angrily. “You are the only person who can vex in such a way.” I hear her moving. “Stay put. It’s cold.”

“You’re cold,” she says on her knees on the bed. “You’re cold and angry and beautiful.” I glare at her. “I will proclaim it from the rooftops if it will make you believe. You’re beautiful, Brienne of Tarth!” I feel my nostrils flare, the tears burning in the back of my throat, and she looks so beautiful.

Pert breast visible in the moonlight under her sheer white night gown, body thin and womanly, grudgingly regaining their curves with each fought and won meal. She is amazing, red hair wild and free, blue eyes dark and blazing and that mouth set grim and stubborn.

“Damn you, Sansa,” I whisper and storm back over to her. “I’m not—” Her lips crash into mine.

“Beautiful.” 

“Sansa,” I whine against her lips.

“Beautiful.”

My breath and heart quicken. I can’t breathe, my knees start to give and she grabs my shirt, fights with me to come on the bed as she holds me.

“Beautiful.”

My head spins as she strokes my hair and a sob wracks through me.

She bends down so her breath is a rasp against the shell of my ear.

“Beautiful. Lady Brienne, you are a beautiful lady, a beautiful woman…”

I shut my eyes and tremble against her.

“Sansa,” I pleat weakly. 

“Beautiful.” Her voice is so low and careful. She continues until I have no more tears and I can almost believe that it’s true.

Tonight, I fall asleep in her arms as she keeps whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

I realize in some ways while her abuse was a mess of intensity and she’s so lucky it ended when it did, but perhaps my abuse ran in a groove so deeply, so firmly I had buried it. But in doing so I had buried and made all those things apart of me, apart of my identity.

I woke up to her fingers still stroking my hair and I wonder if she has slept at all. The chill morning dawn falls across the room through the open windows. I am buried deeply into her under the thick fur blankets. 

“Did you sleep, Sansa?” I ask.

“I woke up a while ago,” she says. “I had a bad dream, but I’m glad I didn’t hurt you.”

“Me too. Want to talk about it?”

“No…yes, but after we talk about last night. Are you awake or are you going to go back to sleep?”

“Awake,” I say. I feel my body stiffen. I don’t particularly want to talk about last night. It was hard and messy and I had cried. I don’t cry.

“I know you have hang ups about how you look…but I just don’t understand. Why is it so bad that I call you beautiful? Why does it hurt you so?”

“Why did you call me that when you saw how much it hurt me?” I whisper and let out a sigh. I feel raw and broken.

There is a long silence before she begins to fill it.

“Those bastards, whoever called you terrible things they stole good words from us. Words that are true and compliment you, that reflect my appreciation and love for your body. I…I didn’t want to lose those words. I was tired of you running from it. I want you to claim them for your own, Brienne. It doesn’t have to be today, but one day I want you to step into your womanhood and beauty and know without a doubt that you are treasured and loved.”

I shut my eyes and nestle tighter into her. I think I am all out of tears for my entire life, before two more squeeze out and down my cheeks.

“I am claiming back those words for you,” she says. “I’m sorry if it hurt, but those other words. The ones you live by and wear like badges of honor are scars from where someone hurt you. Where they took something precious from you and I want…I don’t know how, but I want you to take my words in as deeply as you have theirs.”

“I don’t know if I can, Sansa,” I reply.

“We can only try. We can spend a whole lifetime trying…”

“A lifetime?” I ask her. She smiles at me and kisses my lips.

“Brienne, I’m not going anywhere unless you are. I don’t think I could be Lady of Winterfell without you.” I sigh against her and take her hand, holding it.

“I’m sorry, I got so…flustered,” I say. “I can’t imagine being anywhere other than by your side. I want to be your knight for as long as you will have me.” She sighs and laughs a little bitterly.

“Why must you always equate your love to your duty to me first? If I had my way I would release you from your vows, but I fear you would never forgive me. Why can’t you love me first and then serve me?”

A panic fills me. I don’t want to be released from her services.

“Don’t ever release me,” I beg. “Don’t ever send me away…” She looks at me, looking troubled.

“When was the last time you were your own person, Brienne?” She asks me. I shake my head and try to think of a time, but I’m not sure there has ever been a time I wasn’t a sworn sword. “Do you want to be free?”

“Not from you,” I say quietly. I sit up. “Even if you call me that…”

“Beautiful.”

“I have a nickname…” I say in a low voice. “They call me Brienne the Beauty, but they do not mean that I am a beauty.” She touches my face when I look away from her.

“You’ve changed the subject, my beauty,” she whispers and kisses my lips chastely. 

“Sansa,” I breathe. “The world makes no sense. It’s cruel and vile and terrible. I know I’m no knight, yet I live unerringly to some code that the world doesn’t live by…when I am sworn to you the world makes sense. Right is right and wrong is wrong and there is no grey. There are only your enemies and your allies and I am not confused.”

“And that is how you do it,” she says with a pleased little smile. “You live in this world so utterly pious and righteous, because you shackle it to your heart.”

“It is better than the chaos and the alternative. You know…if anyone knows…you know…Please, do not release me from my oath. I swear I will endeavor to place my love for you over my duty.”

“Brienne, I will protect you,” she says gently. “In this way, I can. Don’t worry. I understand now. I will give you a framework to feel safe and secure.” I frown at her. I don’t know what she means. “I can do this for you as you have aided me. I will offer you refuge so you can live the way you want to live.”

“I…I…thank you.”

“You’ll always be my knight,” she whispers and kisses my cheek.


	11. Winter has Come

We only have a brief moment in the madness that ensues to be together after that. She commands me to leave with the envoy to Cersei. I obey only because she is my lady, but is there ever a time I wish I could rip at the chains of my duty and disobey her it is that day. 

Our night is fervent kisses, meals untouched, and her pleading with me not to be angry. How could I stay angry with such a woman? I make her swear to eat and tend for herself and I hate myself for leaving her to fend with only Arya against Littlefinger.

I had little to fear though. When I return, I return with an army to fight off the winter. I bring my lady dragons, unsullied, wildlings, and those from the South. 

That evening, it is so late…when I finally knock on her door. It flings open and someone rips me inside. Her hot lips press against mine fervently, demandingly.

“Where have you been?” She demands, hands pressing against my armor.

“The same place you’ve been, meetings…I wasn’t sure you…wanted—”

“I always want you, Brienne. Never doubt that. I missed you so much!” She says between heated kisses and I am nothing but the forge in my belly. My body is moving without my volition and I feel her hit the bed, a little more roughly than I intend. She let’s out a gasp. “Gently, my darling. Gently. Let me get you out of your armor.”

“I…I…I missed you too,” I say meagerly. It doesn’t describe the full breath of loss I felt without her. I want to swear to her that I won’t leave again, but we both know that is a lie. They are coming, they are on our doorstep as we speak. I will have to go and protect her.

My fingers are too shaky to even bother with the straps, but as always Sansa’s fingers are firm and quick at their duty. My cuirass falls away.

“You stink of the road,” she says with a smile.

“I will go to the public bathhouse,” I start.

“No, you will not leave me,” she says. “I don’t care. Not really. I only tease.” I nod as she bends down to remove the rest of my armor. It feels so strange and so right that the Lady of Winterfell is removing my armor as if she is my squire. 

Finally, I am free, I pick her up and place her on the bed, so it easier to kiss her. She smiles and wraps her arms around my neck.

“Brienne…? Do you burn for me tonight? For I burn like the stars for you,” she whispers into the shell of my ear. I tremble and start to pull away, but she catches my face. “I see the way my brother looks at the Targaryen woman. When I looked to you I saw that same look tonight. Do you know how that pleases me? That I am not alone. That I am wanted.”

“Sansa…” I breathe quietly. My voice doesn’t sound like my own. She pulls at my tunic. I remove them all for her. She rips off my breast band and starts kissing me. “Oh Sansa.” 

With her, it is rough and desperate and everything. She sucks, and licks, and rakes her nails across my flesh. She is everything I would ever dream in a lover. She is strong enough to keep up with me, to make me feel her, and she is so beautiful. I melt under her touch and it doesn’t take long for me to come under her ministrations. 

I roll over in bed, gasping and slightly sweaty. She is smiling pleased with herself and I must lay there like a lamb ready for slaughter as I recoup. She crawls up my body, slowly raking her fingers along my muscles. I gasp and squirm until she finds my lips again.

“I have waited so long for that, Brienne,” she says. “I could pleasure you for the rest of my life. Even in the darkest days of winter.” 

“I love you,” I whisper. “Sansa, I love you so much.” She smiles against my flesh. I turn over gently. “Please.” I play with the laces of her sleep gown. “I will be gentle, I promise, and if you tell me to stop…I will.” She rises up to meet my lips again.

“Take me, Brienne,” she says fiercely. “I wouldn’t even mind if you claimed me as he did. I am yours.”

I don’t. I don’t claim her like he did. Instead, I gently remove her nightgown and stare down at the beautiful tapestry of her body. She is glorious in the candlelight with the fierce darkness outside she seems to glow all the brighter. I kiss her jaw gently and move slowly.

I am the hunter. I am the pious worshiper who comes daily to worship at the altar of Sansa. I feel her hands in my hair, tickling gently against whatever she can touch, squeezing a bicep as I lick, suck, and tickle, but I never bite, squeeze hard, scrape, or scratch. She is for worshiping and loving.

“Come,” I say I lift her up and lead her to couch. She looks so confused. I sit her down, kneel naked in front of her and start kissing her inner thighs. The fire lights her even more deliciously. Her lips plump and swollen from kissing. Her body even more filled out and curvy since the last time I saw her. She has been eating. I can’t feel the knobs of her spine at last.

There are tears in her eyes, but I don’t stop. I will not stop until she asks me. So when I feel she is wet, I dare to fully worship at her shrine. She whines and I pull back, looking to her and she nods, hand buried into my hair as she pushes me back in for more.

When I dare to go lower, she finally balks.

“No, Brienne…not there,” she says shakily. So I return north, where she is safe and though it takes careful ministrations, it’s worth it.

“Sansa…” I moan her name, feeling her hips rock against me. “Mine. You’re mine…” She hisses and feel her tighten. With that, I say more fiercely. “Mine.” She finally yells my name. Her thighs tighten around my head, her hand tightens roughly in my hair, and I feel her juices rush out against my lips.

She comes down to kiss me, which surprises me. We continue to kiss and I can taste the tears on her cheeks.

“I love you…” she whispers. “My darling, my life. I never thought…I could feel…that I could…”

I kiss away the darkness of her words. Sliding beside her, I pull the blanket around her and pull her into my lap. She comes to me and we rest in front of the fire wrapped up in each other.

I stroke her hair, enjoying the feel of her small body against mine, so warm and real. So alive and she loves me. She is so beautiful, so mine and I want nothing more than to stay here forever, but the terrible thing is we both know we are facing a foe that is greater than anything we have encountered before.

We will each have to play our parts. Her protecting the home front and me on the front lines, because that is where I belong. It is my duty. She clings to me tonight as if it will be our last and there is no promise I can give to alleviate that fear. I find my hands clasping just as tightly.

“Did I satisfy you, Brienne?” She asks me after several minutes. “Was I too rough? I wanted you so much.” I kiss her to stop her words again. I can hear the fear and anxiety in them.

“Hmm….satisfy me? I fear, I will never be satisfied again, my goddess. I will long to return to your purifying spring for the rest of my life. Nothing will ever fulfill me again.”

“Oh Brienne, must you wax poetically?” She says, but she is pleased by my words.

“And you, love?”

She swallows.

“I never thought to feel pleasure again…yet you played it from me like the sweetest song I ever knew,” she says, tears in her voice. I stroke the long curve of her back.

“Who speaks poetry now, love,” I whisper and kiss her cheek.

She chuckles.

“I don’t want to lose you. You’re the only thing that has ever made me happy.”

“I don’t want to lose you either.” It’s all I can manage. The darkness seems to grow, dampening the fire and candles in the room. We cling to each other tighter.

Even our love seems unable to fight the cold of winter. My heart shutters at the thought of losing this easy intimacy with another being. I will miss that fiery red hair, those deep blue eyes, the narrow shoulders, lean and long back, and long legs. To think that I have gained this treasure above all others is unimaginable, but worse that I could lose her to an even greater darkness is even worse.

“When this is over…I’m taking you to Saphire Isle,” I say. “We will stay as long as we need to banish this darkness from our souls. Let the world handle itself without us. After this, we will owe no one anything, except each other.

She hums against my flesh.

“Okay,” she says. 

“Okay?” I ask her.

“Yes, my darling. Take me to your home, make it ours. There will be enough people here to handle the North, if there is still a North…”

I kiss her again to banish the darkness from her lips.

“You will see waterfalls, the deepest vales, and the luscious greens and wildest blues. Deeper than your eyes,” I say to her. But when she looks up at me with those sad, flat eyes I can tell she doesn’t remember what any of that looks like. She doesn’t remember warmth or wilderness. 

I kiss her again, but something in her lips feels cold and a fear deep within me takes hold as I pull her tighter against me. I will hold her and kiss away the darkness I tell myself, because I can. I can. Let the darkness fuck itself, because I claim her as my own.


	12. The War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh, I wrote this before the first episode of season 8 came out, but I'm going to keep it the same. I have no idea what is going to happen, so I'm just going to roll with what I wrote and if I need to fix it later and it can be fixed maybe I'll do that, barring my two leads are killed off in the show that is. I work in happy endings only.
> 
> Sorry for the late entry, I was in the hospital and recovering. I'm so glad to be home again!

She looks at me, wind in her hair stark red hair. The sky clear and I dare to see a smile.

My body has never hurt so much. Let the world take care of itself. I just want her. I remember when her lips finally touched mine, awakened them from the everlasting winter of an endless war.

“My darling,” she whispers. “Fight for me.”

I don’t know where I’m at, but Arya visits me first. She sits down on a stool.

“Jon says, you fought until the end beside him. That you’ve more than earned your place in this family,” she says quietly. “I guess, love isn’t a weakness when so many have died…I kept her alive for you…well for me, but it helps you. Now you got to keep fighting, hear me? If Jon says you’re in the family, you’re family.”

I blink at her, but I can’t push words passed the blur of the milk of the poppy. I don’t even know what’s wrong with me. She’s holding my hand.

“Sansa…”I finally manage. A smile tugs at her lips.

“She’s okay, promise,” she says and fades away to the shadow. 

I don’t expect the dragon woman, Daenerys to come. She sits on my bed. 

“Hi,” she says, somewhat awkwardly. “You saved my life a few times out there…” she pats my hand. “And Jon’s. He’s told me about your feelings for his sister. I think, it’s beautiful what you have…Oh, you’re awake…they said.”

“It hurts,” I tell her bleakly. She nods, her face pained.

“Even with the milk of the poppy?” She asks me and I nod. She takes a wash rag and dabs it against the heat on my face.

“Sansa,” I manage. She smiles, a tight smile.

“She will come in the evening. We are keeping her busy. I’m sorry,” she says. I nod stiffly.

“Thank you, Lady Brienne of Tarth,” she says. “You will always have a place in my kingdom.” My eyes trail back to hers. Her eyes are sad, bittersweet.

“The Seven kingdoms?” I ask and she nods. “Cersei.”

“Her army is decimated. It doesn’t matter if she sits on the iron throne or not.”

I nod.

“What’s wrong?” I ask and motion toward my body.

“You are fighting a battle, another war,” she says and pats my hand. “Let Sansa tell you.” I nod, because I’m too tired.

“I can think of no better queen to serve,” I say quietly. She bends down and kisses my forehead before slipping into the darkness.

Sansa finally comes to me and I try to sit up, but I can’t. The pain is so strong I nearly pass out, but I fight, because I desperately want her. She presses me down and kisses me, her lips bitter and salty.

“Sansa,” I breathe finally eased. “I’ve waited…”

“I know, my love,” she says.

“I’m here. You’re here,” I say and cry bitter tears at everything we’ve lost.

“Oh my dear,” she says and kisses the tears away. “Oh my sweet, sweet Brienne. When you are well enough, I’m taking you home.”

“Where is home?” I ask her confused. I don’t know anymore.

“Home is where ever we are at, but I guess I meant, your home Saphire Isle. I’ve made the arrangements. So get better.” 

“What’s wrong with me?” I ask.

“You’ve taken many wounds that would have killed an average man,” she says haltingly. “You’re lucky to be alive.” Those words hang heavy, I swipe at the sweaty hair on my forehead, but it’s Sansa who brushes them back with sure fingers.

“Are they festering?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Then, what has you so concerned. I will heal.”

“They say you may not walk again. Your leg is in bad condition. Not to mention your other wounds…” A tear slips down her cheek. I take her hand gently.

“My dear Sansa…you don’t have to stay with me if I can’t take care of myself.” She stops my words with a kiss.

“I didn’t say that,” she says against my flesh. “No, my dear. You just may not be able to walk. Bran has sorted himself out, you will too. I would never stop being with you, Brienne. You loved me at my worst…how can I not love you in this moment? When you gave everything for me and Winterfell? I could not stop loving you if I tried.” 

I can’t help the sigh of relief. She smiles at me.

“You silly girl,” she tells me. “You silly, silly girl.”

Weeks later, I am on a ship with her. Still bandaged, a cane in hand, as I stiffly walk the deck. We have a trusted crew, so when she wraps her arms around me and stands on tiptoe to put her chin on my shoulder I am not surprised. It is a common enough occurrence.

“My sweet, sweet Brienne,” she whispers. “How do fare today?” I don’t want to answer. Everyday is a challenge. The only thing that keeps me going is the beautiful red head near me. I take her hand, trying to keep my balance as I turn. She keeps me steady and hugs herself to me.

“Sansa,” I breathe in the smell of the fresh scent of her hair.

“I do wish you would rest,” she says. 

“I needed some air,” I say into the locks of hair. I take a deep breath. Her hand tucks into my side and she peers up at me. I stroke a knuckle down her face. 

“Beautiful,” I say and bend down as the best I can, but she meets me as if she knows. She kisses me softly and it becomes more intense.

“I could say the same thing,” she says, finger tracing the deep stitching on my face I earned in the Deep Winter War. I tremble under her touch. “Come to bed, my sweet.”

So we walk carefully down the stairs down in the swaying darkness of the ship. I like it less than I do the first time, but I don’t complain, thinking about the bed at the end of this particular trip.

The room is only big enough for two beds and a small night stand. Sansa helps me sit down, leg extended before me. From my healing, I’ve lost a lot a weight and I’m sure I look more like a scarecrow rather than the warrior I once was.

She kisses the top of my head, picking up the leg and helping me slide into the bed carefully. Then, she taps my hip, helping me scoot over.

“If you won’t stay in bed, then I’ll stay with you,” she says. I smile at her.

“That is always a good excuse to stay in bed,” I say with a chuckle. She nuzzles my neck. “You don’t have to stay with me truly. Haven’t you wiled enough hours away with your invalid?”

“With my knight,” she chastises gently. “You’ll always be my knight, Brienne. You’re already walking when they said you wouldn’t.”

“Only because you have cared so well for me, my sweet,” I whisper, remembering every single moment after the milk of the poppy worn off. How she bathed me, fed me, cared for me. She had refused when I moved into her rooms again to let anyone else care for me. All meetings ended, and I suppose that’s when they agreed to let her take this journey, because the Lady of the North wasn’t returning to her duties anytime soon.

How she still loves me, I do not know. How we can still have these sweet moments of intimacy, stranger still when she has seen me at my worst, vomiting and shitting and stuck in bed due to terrible wounds. She never let them fester though. She always carefully cleaned them, always cleaned me.

“Don’t think so much, my darling,” she tells me for the millionth time. “You’ve come so far. Don’t think on the terrible times, but the good. That is the only way to survive. That is what you have taught me so well, my darling.”

I look away from her and she let’s me. I take a shaky breath. Then, I take another. Every day it is hard to fight off the darkness of winter even though the days of summer are grudgingly returning.

She strokes my collarbones, bringing unbidden warmth. I love her. She is my spring. She is the light in the darkness. She kisses my jaw in butterfly kisses.

“I love you, dear sweet Brienne. Will you look at me?” She strokes my hair and I look back at her.

“You are too pretty to look at,” I say with a smile. “I am so lucky, every day I wake I have you to look at.” 

“Mmm, I could say the same thing, Brienne. You’re delightful to look at.”

“How can you put up with me?”

“You have not whined one day in your healing. I promise to you I whimpered every time I was cut,” she says with a smile, but I frown at her. “I’m just saying…” I kiss her and she moans into my mouth. “You can’t win every argument by kissing me, Brienne.”

“I have no other charms, my lady,” I tease. 

“You have a lot of charms. Brienne, my beauty. You’re eyes and golden locks.” Her hand strays to my abdomen. “These wonderful abs and that wonderful backside.”

“You still like them?”

“I love them,” she says without thought. “I love you in any form. You’re mine.” I smile. I like that. I’m hers. She kisses me. 

We land and I walk as best as I can, Sansa by my side down the plank. It is green here. I had forgotten how green it was. How blue the sea was. How wonderfully blue the sea is and when I look to Sansa’s eyes and the sea , I nod.

“They are the same color,” I say. She looks up at me. Her cheeks wind whipped pink. Her eyes lit with the vision of my homeland. She has forgotten too.

“It’s amazing…what is the same color?”

“Your eyes and the sea,” I say. My mouth stops and hangs open. My father is there. He stands tall, hail, and arms crossed.

“You survived the Long Winter I see,” he says. “And brought a pretty girl home.”

“Father,” I whisper.

“Come here, love,” he says and opens up his arms. Sansa helps me move as quick as I can to hug him. I groan as his arms wrap tightly around busted ribs. “You weren’t well enough to travel.”

“The winter was not good weather to heal,” I admit. “We did not have a place to go.”

“You will always be my heir and have a home here,” he says. “Come. Come. You still need to rest, I dare say. But first…”

“Father, this is Lady Sansa, the Lady of Winterfell. Lady Sansa, my father, Lord Selwyn Tarth of Evenfall Hall.”

He takes her hand and kisses it.

“Welcome, to our home, my lady,” he says. “It is an honor.” He looks between us. A secret smile on his lips. “I’ll make sure to arrange a room with a bigger bed.”

“Father,” I say warningly, but he grins. “Thank you.” He chuckles and we walk toward Evenhall. It’s a beautiful light colored castle that I have missed greatly.“We’ll go tomorrow to see the waterfalls.”

“No,” my father and Sansa say together. They look at each other for a moment, before realizing they are allies in my recovery. I frown at this new discovery.

“You are not well enough yet,” Sansa says. “When you are better. Now, just rest and get better. We’re home.”

“I’m always home with you, my love”


End file.
